Gravity
by ConflictedCalypso
Summary: "But instead you left me behind and you never once looked back and you only ever look out for yourself and I don't know how to believe that you ever gave a shit about me." Slow burn Emison.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A little bit of background on this story: ****I thought it'd be interesting (considering the Ali/Noel kiss rumours floating around before 5x09 aired), to think about the shot in the promo where Emily is looking at those photos, and what if one of them was of Ali and Noel together? And the rest sort of stemmed from there. **

**I wrote this before 5x09 aired, and it begins immediately after 5x08 ended, with the scene in Hanna's room - except I thought it was Alison's room, so let's pretend for the purposes of this story that Alison told her Dad about the break-in at the Marin house and he rushed home. So it will be canon divergence from 5x08 - I'll still probably use elements from the show but possibly not. **

**I know the mystery of -A is the big thing on the show, but I'm more interested in the characters themselves, and that's what I want to primarily focus on in this fic, so -A isn't going to have a huge part in the story.**

**There are mentions of Ali x Noel past relationship in this, and there will probably be mentions of Paily too at some point, and Emaya. **

* * *

_Set me free,  
Leave me be,  
I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity_

* * *

"Do you have any idea how messed up this is?" Emily asks when Spencer's gone home, and it's just her and Alison in the blonde's room, and she's angry, _furious_ that Alison could pull something like this without _telling _them and god, what _else_ is she hiding from them?

From _her_?

"Like I said before," Alison mutters back, still messing around with her clothes in the bag, her back to Emily so that the brunette can't see her face. "It worked, didn't it?"

"But that's not the _point_!" They're alone in the house so she doesn't bother trying to keep her voice down, lets her frustration shine through and when Alison whirls around there's anger in her eyes, too, and Emily wonders if it's because for perhaps the first time, she's daring to challenge her. "Did you even think this through? How _wrong _it could have gone?"

"But it _didn't_," Alison hisses, and like this, beautiful and terrible and with a glare etched across her face, her eyes an icy blue, she reminds Emily so much of the old Alison that it breaks her heart, because she thought… she never thought she'd ever had to see her like this again.

And she doesn't want to admit it, doesn't even want to _think _it, but deep down she knows that, on-top of everything else, that there's the feeling of jealousy churning within her gut. Because Alison chose _Noel _to help her, confided in _Noel_, is still in contact with him even now that she's back in Rosewood and she can't… she can't help wondering if she's been a massive idiot this whole time and that behind her back, Alison and Noel laugh about how pathetically in love with Alison she still is, even after all this time, because she'd chosen _him _over _her_.

"Can we just drop this, please?" Alison sighs, and she looks exhausted, when Emily dares to glance at her, like the weight of all her secrets and lies are getting to be too much for her. "What's done is done, and I can't take it back now."

"That doesn't make it _okay_," Emily snaps back because she's not ready to let this go, she's not ready for this to be yet another thing that they never talk about again (and she's not bitter about the fact that Alison hasn't brought up that kiss ever again, she's _not_ except it's all she can think about when they're alone together and she hates it, hates that Alison still has such a hold over her even after all this time).

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Emily knows that Alison doesn't apologize easily, but then she can't help wondering if she's only saying it now to get Emily off her back and _why _does Alison have to make her doubt _every _little thing? "I know it was wrong, but I… had to do something."

"And you couldn't have asked someone else to do it? You couldn't have _told _us about it? You came back here and say you've changed but everything's still the same – you still don't trust us, you trust _Noel Kahn _more than us? After everything we've been through? After everything we've _done _for you?"

Her voice cracks with the weight of the emotion behind her words, and she feels tears spring up behind her eyes and hates it, blinks them back hastily because she will _not _cry in-front of Alison, not like this.

"Emily I… Noel and I have _history_, okay? It's complic - "

"Because you and I don't?" She feels her heart shatter and break inside her chest, and really, what had she been expecting? She's stupid and too trusting and so _naïve _when it comes to Alison, and she always was and Alison makes her feel fifteen years old with just a single glance and still, she loves her.

She loves her and it _hurts_, and she wishes she could reach into her chest and claw out her heart because she can't _deal _with it, with any of this, she never _asked _for it, never wanted to fall in love with a woman who would never love her back, who would only play with her emotions to keep her close, and shatter her heart into a million pieces just for fun.

And she just needs to get _out _of there, all of a sudden, can't stand to look at this woman that she loves in spite of it all, can't stand to let Alison see her cry because the tears start to fall, and she wipes them away with the back of her hand as she turns on her heel and heads out of the door.

"Emily! Wait - " Alison calls for her, Alison reaches for her, fingers scrabbling at Emily's wrist, but she yanks her arm away and practically runs down the stairs until she's slamming the front door behind her and sliding into her car, and then she doesn't know where to go because she's a _mess _and she can't go home looking like this.

In the end it's an easy decision, because there's one person who's just as much of a mess as she is, right now, life turned upside down by Alison's return, and she pulls into Hanna's drive and knocks on the door and is relieved when the blonde opens the door.

And she looks as bad as Emily feels, her hair tangled and messy and there are red circles around her eyes and she's clearly been crying, and she _stinks _of alcohol – it permeates the air between them as she appraises Emily as she stands in the doorway.

"You look like shit," is all she says as she steps aside and beckons her inside.

"So do you." Hanna merely shrugs, leading the brunette up to her room without another word – it's dark inside, the lights switched off and the drapes drawn, and she clambers into the bed and then pats the space next to her, and Emily follows her without protest.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Do you?" She counters, and Hanna's lips quirk upwards into a wry smile before she reaches over the side of the bed, and when she reappears there's bottle of whiskey in her hand, half-empty, and Emily knows that, considering everything, she should be the responsible friend and take it away, because Hanna's spiralling out of control and Emily shouldn't enable her.

But fuck being responsible, because where has that gotten her so far? Heartbroken and feeling desperately alone?

So when Hanna hands stretches her arm towards her, handing her the bottle, instead of shaking her head like she knows she should, she takes it instead and unscrews the lid, pressing it to her lips and taking a gulp of the dark liquid within – she coughs when it slides down the back of her throat because it stings, and Hanna laughs at the expression of distaste on her face as she grabs the bottle and takes her own sip.

Emily's phone rings, and she glances at the caller ID and sees that it's Alison and snatches the bottle back, takes another drink, and Hanna notices the name but doesn't say a word – instead she throws her a sympathetic smile and wraps an arm around her back and it's only then that Emily starts to feel a little better.

x-x-x

She waits for Alison in her room.

She knows where the spare key is, had snuck into the house earlier that evening and just… waited. It had gotten dark around her, the sun setting and dusk settling in, but she hadn't moved from the centre of the blonde's bed, where still she sits cross-legged with the photos spread out around her, her evidence of Alison's betrayal.

She can't stop herself from looking at them, and it feels like a stab to the heart each and every time she does, and she _hates _it, hates that she's jealous because she has no right, she has no claim to Alison DiLaurentis and she clearly never had, and she probably never will.

And yet she can't stop the pain that floods her chest every time her eyes land on the picture in-front of her, the one where Noel's hands are on Alison's waist, and Alison's are on his shoulders, and they're kissing.

She remembers seeing it for the first time, pulling it out of that damn envelope and she hates A most of all, in all of this, for orchestrating her finding them, for knowing that seeing them would hurt her far worse than anything else A had ever done to her in the past.

When the front door finally, finally opens she starts to regret coming over here in the first place – she's avoided Ali since she'd left this room the other night, had skipped two days of school with Hanna before Spencer had quite literally dragged the two of them out of the house that morning, and she'd done well at being everywhere that Ali wasn't, with Hanna's (unquestioning) help.

And then she'd found the pictures, and she'd been so… _mad_. Hot, seething _fury _that had slid through her veins and made her hands shake, because how _dare _Alison have kissed her back, how _dare _she let Emily believe that a single thing had changed, when she was off making out with Noel Kahn when Emily wasn't looking?

And that had led her to this room, and she feels cold dread settling in her stomach when she hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs but it's too late, she's gone too far, and there's no way she can get out of this now, so she straightens her spine and she waits.

It doesn't take long – Alison heads straight for her room, flicks on the light, and jumps back in shock when she sees Emily sitting on her bed, bag slipping from her hand and its contents spilling out across the floor.

"Emily, y-you scared me." She shuts the door behind her, and it's only then that she notices the photographs on the bed, and her face visible pales. "Where… where did you get those?"

"A sent them to me." She leans forward and grabs the centre one, the one of Alison and Noel that she can't seem to tear her gaze away from for too long in spite of how much it hurts her, curls her shaking fingers around it and tries not to crush it (because she wants to, she wants to crush that and the both of them, too), and thrusts it towards Alison. "But this one. This one's my favourite."

"Emily…"

"No, take it. Really _look _at it." Her voice is cold and emotionless, and she sounds… _empty _and this is what Alison's done to her and she wants her to _know _that. Alison's fingers tremble as they reach to take the photo, and she glances down at it and a shadow of regret crosses her face before her eyes flicker back up to meet brown.

"Emily I… I don't know what to say."

"How about the _truth _for once in your fucking life?" She snaps, and Alison flinches, and instead of feeling gratified by it she's sickened, sickened by herself and her jealousy and the fact that she'd been stupid enough to believe that she ever meant _anything _to Alison. "Was it all just… a _game _to you? Do you get off on messing me around? God, I can't believe I actually thought… Did I ever mean a damn _thing _to you?"

"How can you ask me that?" Alison sounds appalled, but Emily doesn't know how to _believe _it. "Em, of course you - "

"Don't fucking _touch_ me," she hisses when Alison reaches for her, and she scrambles backwards until she's standing on the opposite side of the bed, and she glares at Alison across it and she wears her heartbreak on her face and tears slip from her eyes and still, still she loves her.

She loves her and wishes she could hate her.

"This," Alison brandishes the photo and then scrunches it up in her hand and throws it away, and there's a blazing anger in her eyes now, too, and they shine a luminescent blue in the semi-darkness. "Doesn't mean _anything_. But you do. You mean _everything _to me."

"Stop _lying_." And she's pleading now, because she can't hear this, she can't hear words like that because it makes her heart ache, and it's too shattered and too shredded and she can't _take _any more of this, can't take any more of Alison, because she's going to destroy her and Emily's going to let her.

"I'm not lying. Yes, I kissed him – is that what you want to hear? Because I did. More than once." Her words are etched with frustration and it stings, and Emily feels the tears gathering behind her eyes, can imagine all too easily Alison's lips on his, his hands all over her and god, it makes her feel sick to her stomach but she can't wipe the thoughts away. "But you were… you were lost to me, you were with Maya and then Paige and do you think that it didn't hurt me, too? To see you with them? With them and… happy in a way that I knew I could never make you?"

"Don't make this my fault." She feels leaden, wants to sink to the floor and never get up again, but she can't, she needs to be strong and she's an _idiot _for thinking it was a good idea to come over here. "I thought you were _dead_. You let me think that you were _dead_ for two years and it destroyed me and then you just waltz back into our lives like nothing's _changed_?"

"Because you asked me to!" Alison practically yells, and there are tears behind her eyes now, too, but Emily doesn't know if they're real or fake and she can't bear to _think _anymore because it hurts, it hurts so much, and she hates that Alison is so guarded, because how can she ever know what she's _thinking_?

"Because I _love _you!" It tears from her throat, and her voice is raw with emotion because she's been ripped open by Alison, ripped open and left for dead, because she doesn't know how to repair the cracks that the last few weeks have put in her. "Because I love you and I couldn't… I couldn't lose you again. But now I wonder if I already have."

Alison just looks at her with sadness in her eyes and Emily feels more tears start to fall but doesn't bother to wipe them away, because she wants Alison to see – she wants Alison to know what she does to her, how she wrecks her and ruins her and tears her to pieces, she wants her to look at her and _know _because she's sick of hiding, sick of pretending that none of it matters so long as she has Alison because it _does _matter.

When her phone rings she wants to ignore it but she knows that she shouldn't, and when she sees it's Hanna she sighs, because she knows that, after spending the last few days together, the blonde won't give up until she reaches her and finds out that she's okay.

Because Hanna knows, now, she knows everything (apart from the photos, Emily hadn't told anyone about them), and Emily knows about her creepy boss and she'd yelled at him for it yesterday, had gotten herself fired over it, but she doesn't care because at least now everyone who had been in the shop that day knew what an asshole he was, and Aria was furious with her _and _Hanna now, but… it'd all be worth it, in the end, if it meant that her Mom didn't end up marrying him.

"Hey," she answers before the call goes to voicemail, and she regrets not taking more time to gather herself because she sounds _awful_.

_"You're crying_," Hanna says immediately, concern colouring her voice. _"What's wrong? Do you need me to come over? Do I need to kick Spencer's butt for dragging us into school today?_"

"No, I… I'm fine."

_"You're not fucking fine, Emily, don't lie to me. What's up? Is it Alison?" _Hanna's made her dislike and distrust of Alison perfectly clear when they'd been alone and very drunk together, and really, Emily can't blame her – it had been Hanna that, out of the four of them, had suffered the most at Alison's hands, after all.

Hanna had very gently reminded her that no, it had been Emily who had it the worst, when the brunette had brought it up, and she'd gone quiet for a very long time after that, until Hanna had realized her mistake and very tactfully changed the subject.

"No."

_"I just told you not to lie to me! What's she done now?" _

"Nothing Han, look, I - "

_"Are you at her place now?"_

"Maybe?"

_"Emily,_" Hanna groans in frustration, because she'd been the one to suggest that she stay away from Alison and Hanna would stay away from Caleb, because the two of them were probably the unhealthiest thing for them right now. _"I thought we agreed." _

"Technically I never did," she points out, and she's kind of forgotten that Alison's in the room and it's a little easier to breathe. "And I _saw _you talking to Caleb after school today, so - "

_"That wasn't my fault! He sought me out, I couldn't escape_." She hears the blonde sigh, heavily. _"Look, she's not good for you right now, Em, okay?" _

"You think I don't know that?"

_"Do you?" _She looks at Alison then, sees the way she's sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at the photographs, sees the exhaustion written all over her face and she _knows_, she _knows _that they're a disaster, that she shouldn't be here because she can't _think _straight around Alison and it's… dangerous. "_Crap, my Mom's calling me for dinner, I have to go. Please don't do anything stupid?" _

"That's kind of my thing, though, when we're together." And it is, it always had been – she'd been the one to kiss her for the first time on that dusty library floor, and she'd been the one to kiss her again the other night in this very room, she'd been the one to confuse things even more and she has no-one to blame for any of this but her own damn self.

"_Well in that case… I'll be at home, if you need me, later." _

"With whiskey?"

_"Vodka, actually, we drank all the whiskey. Now I really do have to go – please call me, if you need me._"

"I will, I promise." When she hangs up and slips her phone back into her pocket, Alison is watching her with steely blue eyes.

"You shouldn't be encouraging her. She has a problem."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I need to drink to get you out of my head, and she's the only one who understands that, so… at least we can drink ourselves into an early grave together."

"Don't _talk _like that."

"Why not? Because you have to pretend like you care?" Alison glares at her and she stares right back, and she's so _tired_, and she shouldn't have come here, she should have listened to Hanna and stayed far away, and she'd been stupid to think that coming over her with the pictures had been a good idea, because she feels even worse than she did before – and she hadn't even thought that possible.

"I'm not pretending _anything_. I do care about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it. You say that you meant what you said outside of that barn, you make me think that I mean something to you, spend the night kissing me and then never bring it up again, and then go and kiss someone else?"

"I told you, that was - "

"In the past, yeah, yeah. I don't know how to believe that, though, when Noel is clearly still your go-to boy. You clearly trust him more than you trust me, because to trust me that would mean you actually had to _tell _me things and god forbid you do _that_."

Alison looks hurt and she feels vindicated even as she despises herself because she shouldn't take _pleasure _in that, in hurting the woman that she loves, and she just… really needs to get out of there. Again. She's halfway to the door when Alison grabs her wrist, just like last time, but this time Emily can't shake her off, and she's slammed back against the wall beside the door and she's frozen in place by the fury in Alison's eyes.

"Don't you _dare _walk away from me again! Stop taking the easy way out, stop _complaining _about me not trusting you or not explaining anything to you when you never give me a fucking _chance _to!" It's probably the first time she's ever heard Alison swear at her, because they've never argued before, not like this, because Emily had never dared to.

And Alison's hands shake as they pin Emily down, and she can feel the heat from Alison's body against her own and god, she wants to kiss her, she wants to kiss her until there's nothing else left in the world but her, and she hates herself for it, for not being strong enough to think about something (anything) else.

"I don't trust him more than you. I don't trust _anyone _more than you. But I don't want to burden you with some of things… some of things that I've done… you were always so sweet and so gentle and I couldn't… I could never tell you about some of things I had to do to survive. I could never ask you to do some of things that I've asked from Noel. He's my friend and I know he'd do anything for me - "

"_I'd _do anything for you." It's a broken whisper; she's broken, she's been broken for a long time, the wounds from Alison's disappearance had never truly healed and they've been torn open anew and she doesn't know how to _fix_ them.

"I _know_ you would. But I can't _ask _you to, don't you understand that? After all the things I've done to you, after all the times I broke your heart, after all the times I told you I didn't want you when I did, I… I could never ask anything of you ever again."

"You ask me to do things all the time. You ask to stay over at my place, you ask me to stay over at yours. You ask me to walk you home. You ask me - "

"Because I'm _selfish_. I'm selfish and I _want _you and I know that if I ask you you'll say yes and that's… messed up, I know it is, but you avoided me for so long after I came back and I just… I wanted to spend time with you. And the things Noel's done… the things he's done for me, I could never ask that of you. I care about you too much."

"But you were still with him. You were with him and not me. You chose _him_, instead of me. You could've stayed, you never had to leave. You could've told us about A – you could've told _me _about A – and we would've _helped _you. But instead you left me behind and you never once looked back and you only ever look out for yourself and I don't know how to believe that you ever gave a shit about me."

Once she starts talking she doesn't really know how to stop, and every doubt she's been keeping inside since Alison came back comes spilling out, and Alison is right _there_, looking at her with sad, sad eyes, and she's not even surprised when Alison kisses her, because that's what she's always done when she gets scared that Emily is pulling away.

She kisses her and it keeps Emily coming back.

And she hates the way that she kisses her back, instead of pushing her away, and it's desperate, and Alison clutches at her like she'll never be able to get close enough. She hates the way her hands grab for Alison's hips instead of reaching for her shoulders to shove her back, and she drags her closer instead as her lips part for Alison's tongue, but most of all, most of all she hates the way that Alison kisses her, like she _matters_.

Because she can't help but think that she doesn't, as her nails dig into Alison's flesh hard enough to leave half-moon marks on her skin (and she wants to, she wants to leave a mark on her, because god knows Alison has left a lifetime's worth of scars on her), and when the blonde moans into her mouth it sends a bolt of heat between her legs and she _hates _it, hates that Alison can turn her on even when she's so mad that she just wants to scream, when there's still a seething fury running like fire through her veins.

And yet still, still, she can't bring herself to hate Alison.

She puts a stop to it eventually – when their lips are bruised and her head is hazy and all she can hear in her ears is the sound of Alison moaning – pushing her away and then whirling towards the door, running a shaking hand through her hair because she can't… she can't _do _this anymore, this back and forth and never knowing where she stands, and she'd been too scared before to stand _up _for herself, to give Alison an ultimatum, too terrified that she'd lose her for good.

But she thinks, as Alison stares at her with flushed cheeks, her lipstick smudged and her hair mussed from Emily's hands, that nothing can hurt her more than this – nothing can be worse than being in this limbo where Alison kisses her when _she_ wants and won't _talk_ to her about anything and she's just… she's so _tired_.

"You can't just kiss me and think that it'll make everything better." There's venom in her words because she's angry, angry at herself for losing control and angry at Alison for making her, and she stands in the doorway and her hands shake and she has to look away from Alison's eyes, focuses on the floor instead. "I'm not some kind of… plaything, for you to mess around with when you feel like and drop when you don't. And when you actually want to have a _conversation _about… us, about whatever the fuck we're doing, then you know where to find me, but until then? Just… stay away from me. _Please._"

She doesn't wait for Alison's answer, can't bear to hear what she might have to say because she's terrified that it might be enough to make her stay, and she needs some space, she needs… she needs to go to Hanna's and get herself wasted and that's probably the unhealthiest thing that she could possibly do but she needs _something _to help her get out of her own head, to be able to stop thinking about Alison fucking DiLaurentis for even just a few seconds before she drives herself _crazy_.

So she walks out of the door and she doesn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I just wanted to say a quick thank you for the reviews and follows and support for this story - it means a lot, so thank you. **

* * *

"You should be warned," Hanna says emphatically, a slight slur to her words as she lies back on her bed, and Emily watches her from the chair at her desk with an amused smile. "'Don't fall in love, ever, because you'll regret it for the rest of your life'."

"At least Caleb hasn't been lying to you for the entirety of your non-relationship," Emily points out, taking another swig from the hip flask in her hand, and the ache in her chest from arguing with Alison still hasn't been assuaged, even though her head is fuzzy and the room is starting to spin.

"I guess." Hanna lets out a heavy sigh before rolling onto her front and propping her head up on the palm of one of her hands. "But he hasn't told me anything about what happened in Ravenswood. Maybe he met someone else over there."

"He'd be an idiot to choose someone else over you," she says honestly, and Hanna smiles softly at her and she wishes, for a second, that she could have fallen in love with Hanna instead of Alison, Hanna who is sweet and kind and who would never hurt her like Alison did, with her acerbic words and taunting laugh.

But maybe she's just a masochist, maybe a part of the reason she loves Alison so much – with the kind of all-consuming want that she's never felt for anyone else, not even Paige or Maya and she'd loved them with all her heart – is because of who she is. Maybe she just wants what she can never truly have, and maybe she's doomed to love Alison until the day she dies.

"Life would be so much easier if I was into girls," Hanna says with a sigh, reflecting Emily's earlier thoughts and the brunette laughs. "You and I could be the Rosewood High power couple."

"In another life, maybe."

"Alison doesn't deserve you, you know," Hanna says then, earnestly, but Emily can't find it within herself to agree – she remembers moments, snapshots, really, when she'd been with Alison and the blonde had been genuine, and thinks that, regardless of the pain she's feeling now, she wouldn't give those moments up for the world. "I hope you know that. You deserve better."

"Someone like you?" Emily teases, and Hanna throws her a lopsided grin, and Emily takes another drink from her flask. "Have you spoken to Aria today?" She asks, changing the subject because she doesn't want to end up doing something stupid like accidentally end up making out with Hanna – they've done if before, once or twice, in the distant past, when they'd both been too drunk for their own good and Hanna had reminded her of Alison so much that it hurt to breathe, and she hated herself for using the blonde like that, and she knew that Hanna knew what Emily was thinking and wondered why she'd let her do it in the first place.

"Nope, she still hates me."

"She doesn't hate you."

"Hanna!" The sound of the blonde's Mom's voice cuts their conversation short, and they hear the sound of footsteps padding up the stairs – Emily is quick to hide her flask in her bag, and Hanna buries the bottle of vodka she's been drinking from under her covers, but Emily knows that they won't fool anyone, are both far too drunk to even pretend to act sober. "Spencer's here."

"Oh, crap," Hanna breathes, but then her bedroom door's opening and Spencer's breezing through, and she takes in the sight of the two of them and heaves out a heavy sigh, shutting the door behind her with a shake of her head.

"It was bad enough when _one _of you was developing an alcohol problem, but the two of you? What has gotten _in _to you?"

"Well, Zach tried to," Hanna points out and Emily snickers even though the thought of that creep makes her sick to her stomach, and Spencer rolls her eyes in exasperation, moving to perch on the edge of the blonde's bed – she ends up sitting on the bottle of vodka and pulls it out from under the covers with a huff.

"You really need to stop, Han."

"Emily's got a flask!" The blonde accuses, and Emily narrows her eyes at the blonde because where was her sense of solidarity?

"Hand it over," Spencer says, extending her hand towards the brunette, and Emily sighs before reaching into her bag and passing it towards Spencer, who slips it into her own bag. "Okay, now, do we want to spill why we're drinking ourselves off the face of the earth? Emily?"

"Why are you even here?" Hanna asks as she pushes herself up so that she's sitting against the headboard, her legs curled underneath her.

"Alison called me." Emily tries to keep her expression carefully blank at the mention of the blonde's name, because Spencer's eyes are glued to her face, and she doesn't want the brunette to know involved she's gotten with Alison since she came back, because she knows exactly what she'll say – 'you should've been more careful'. "She said that you'd probably be over here, and you'd probably be in a bad way. You guys know anything about why she might have said that?"

"When do any of us have any idea what Alison's thinking?" Hanna mutters darkly, but Spencer ignores her, eyes still fixed firmly on Emily, who squirms under the brunette's intense stare.

"And would you know anything about why she was crying when she was on the phone with me?" Emily's heart breaks at the thought of Alison crying alone in her bedroom (her fault, all her fault), when she has Hanna and now Spencer here with her – and then Hanna's eyes are on her face, and she's shaking her head vehemently.

"No, Emily, don't you dare feel sorry for her."

"I'm not."

"I can _see _it on your face, _don't_. She deserves it."

"I don't think anyone really deserves to - "

"_She _does," Hanna insists, and Spencer just watches the two of them like she's at a tennis match, her head swinging one way then the other. "She broke your heart again and you're _still _on her side, Em, she's bad news, why can't you _see _that?"

"Because I love her." It comes out in a broken whisper and she feels the hot sting of more tears behind her eyes and she'd been so _good_, she hadn't cried since she'd left Alison's house, had pulled herself together before she'd gotten to Hanna's but more tears come spilling out now, and Spencer is by her side in a second, taking her hand and pulling her over to the bed, and Spencer sits on one side and Hanna on the other and they just wrap their arms around her and she sobs into Hanna's shirt while the blonde rambles drunkenly about nothing in particular.

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" Spencer pleads when Emily's eyes are dry, and Emily can see the concern in Spencer's eyes, knows that she can't hide things from her anymore – so she spills her story for the second time that week, and she tells them both about the photos, too, because they deserve to know everything that she's found out.

"Who else was in them?" Spencer asks almost as soon as she's finished, and Hanna shoots the brunette a glare over Emily's head. "What?"

"Insensitive, much?"

"No, it's fine," Emily says, and she tries to force her hazy brain to concentrate, to remember what had been on the photos that _weren't _of Alison and Noel. "There weren't many. Just of her out and about."

"And A sent them to you?"

"They made sure I found them, yeah."

"But why?"

"If we're gonna try and figure out A's motivations then I'm gonna need my vodka back," Hanna mutters and Spencer rolls her eyes.

"Somehow I don't think that'll help." Emily has to agree – she's starting to feel sick now that she's stopped drinking, is wondering how bad her hangover is going to be in the morning. "Does Ali still have them?"

"I don't know. I left them there. She's probably thrown them all out by now."

"Okay well I'm gonna go over and get them. And then tomorrow I'm going to corner Noel and ask him what the hell he was doing with Alison and why he's been helping her."

"It's because they have _history_," Emily says bitterly, and she thinks of his hands over Alison's body once again and has to swallow back the bile that claws up her throat, and Hanna's arm, wrapped around her lower back, squeezes gently. "And why would he help you, anyway?"

"Because him being on those photos proves that he knew Alison was alive this whole time and was helping keeping her hidden," Spencer points out, and the smile that curves around is wicked, excited about the prospect of finally getting some answers. "And I'm sure he won't want the police to know about that. So he'll help us – whether it'll be the truth or not, well… I guess we'll just have to see what he says."

x-x-x

She wakes up the next morning in Hanna's bed with a pounding headache and groans, burrowing further into the covers because the alarm _hurts _her ears, but the sheets are ripped from her body a moment later, and she glares up at Spencer who just looks down at both her and Hanna with a stern expression on her face, hands on her hips.

"Up. Now."

"Spenceeee," Hanna whines from Emily's side, and the brunette has to agree with the sentiment because she doesn't _want _to move from this nice and comfy bed and go to the hellhole she calls school, where she's bound to run into Alison.

"_Up_," Spencer orders again, and Hanna mutters something derogatory under her breath that Spencer doesn't hear but Emily does, and the brunette chokes on a laugh.

Spencer had gone home last night only to reappear again a while later, informing the both of them that she wasn't leaving them alone 'to drink their sorrows away' and was staying the night, thereby ensuring that they also wouldn't miss any more school.

She'd also reappeared with an envelope and Emily hadn't asked even though she'd wanted to, hadn't asked how Alison was, what kind of shape the blonde was in when Spencer had gone over to get the photos, but she'd wanted to, and she'd wanted to drink, too, but Spencer had put a stop to that as well.

And Emily knows that the brunette is just trying to help, but… she kind of wants to self-destruct, let herself fall apart completely before she starts to put herself back together again, because maybe then she'd feel better, feel something other than this constant pain in her chest that tells her that everything's the same as two years ago and she's in love with a woman that will never ever be hers.

They get ready for school in relative silence, and Emily winces when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror in the bathroom – her eyes are bloodshot and there a dark circles underneath from where she hadn't been able to sleep much (she'd spent most of the night awake, haunted by Alison's face and Alison's words and Alison kissing Noel and god, she wants to rip out her brain and claw out her eyes so that she never ever has to see that again), and her hair is a tangled mess that takes her almost ten minutes to sort into something semi-presentable.

She has one class with Alison, one unavoidable hour with her, but the rest of the day she can just focus on not accidentally running into her. When Spencer pulls into a space in the parking lot Emily sees a flash of blonde hair waiting by the door and almost refuses to get out of the car – and then the girl moves and she sees that it's not Alison at all, and breathes out a sigh of relief even as she's shaking her head at her herself, and Hanna is shooting her a sympathetic look and squeezing her hand gently and suddenly she just really wants to be alone for a little while.

She's ridiculously early for her first class, escaping from Hanna and Spencer with a mutter about how she wasn't taking any chances about seeing Alison, and it's kind of nice, to sit on her own in the empty classroom and she stares out of the window and tries not to wallow in self-pity.

When her phone buzzes as the room starts to fill up around her she assumes that it's Hanna or Spencer checking up on her – but when she glances at the screen and sees that it's from an unknown number her heart stutters and she holds her breath as she opens it.

_Did you enjoy those pictures? I know I did. –A_

She wants to crush her phone into a million tiny pieces; her hands shake so bad that it clatters down onto the table, and before she can get herself under control the teacher stands up at the front of the room and starts the class, and she wishes that she'd never gotten out of bed that morning.

She can barely concentrate on a thing all day, is desperate for a drink even though she _knows _she shouldn't, but she craves it, the oblivion that it can create if she drinks enough, because she's no stranger to using alcohol to drown her problems.

Most of the summer after Alison had disappeared had been a blur. It had just gotten too much, after those first few torturous days – having to wait, hoping and praying that she'd turn up unscathed, before they could file a missing persons' report, and then those days had stretched into weeks and Alison had been nowhere to be found and people started to throw around the word 'dead' and 'murdered' and she just… couldn't deal with it.

She couldn't deal with the thought that she'd never see Alison again; she'd never be able to tell her how she truly felt (her letter long gone – she wonders if things would be different, now that Alison's back, if she would've read it before she went missing), never be able to kiss her again, had lost her first love in a twist of fate crueller than the way that Alison had played with her feelings and humiliated her.

She'd scared her parents to death but they'd known how hard it was, hadn't questioned her about the fact that she spent a lot of time alone in her room (where she cried and she cried and she cried, holding old photographs of her and Alison in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other), the fact that her friends slipped away until she was on her own.

Aria went to Iceland and Hanna found Mona and Spencer focused on school until she was the best that she could be, and Emily threw herself into swimming in the hope that it would be enough to drown the memory of Alison but it never was.

Nothing had been enough; she wonders if Alison will always be there in her mind, just below the surface, taunting her, wonders if she'll ever be able to escape her.

And she'd lost Maya, too, snatched away from her just when she'd started to think that they were going to be okay, and she barely remembers that summer, either. It had been good to get out town, to work until her fingers bled and to feel like she'd been doing something _good _with herself, but it didn't… It didn't get rid of the ache in her chest, the cracks in her heart from Alison and from Maya hadn't healed, and she thinks that maybe they never did because she can still feel them there now.

She doesn't know how she makes it through her first three periods, but she does – it's the fourth that she has with Alison, and she wants to skip it, is very, very tempted, but then Spencer is there with a stern look on her face, seizes her wrist and drags her into the room, and she supposes that at least it isn't just her and Alison, and Spencer can be a buffer.

The blonde slips through the door two seconds before the final bell rings and sits as far away from Emily as she possibly can, but not before Emily catches a glimpse of her face and feels guilt churning in her stomach because she looks awful, worse than Emily _feels_, and that can only be her fault.

And she tries to remind herself that she's not to blame, that it's Alison who refuses to be honest with her, who doesn't trust her, but the blonde's voice rings in her ears '_you won't even give me a chance to explain myself'_ and she wonders if she'd been too quick to walk away.

She spends pretty much the whole class staring at the back of Alison's head, half of her wanting her to turn around and the other half dreading if she does, because she can stay away (maybe), like this, when Alison is far away, but up close she's not sure she's strong enough and she needs to start to put herself back together before she can bear to face Alison again.

Lunch is spent in the library, with Spencer texting her every five seconds to try and arrange a time for them to ambush Noel, because apparently Emily has to be present for _that _sure-to-be-awkward conversation, and when they eventually decide on where and when to do it Emily's not sure if she should be looking forward to getting some answers or fearful for what they might find out.

But she meets Spencer in the parking lot after school all the same, a few steps away from Noel's car, and when they see him approach they inch slightly closer – when he unlocks the door and slides inside, so do they, Spencer into the passenger seat and Emily into the back, and the look of surprise on his face would have been amusing if it hadn't the next second been replaced by a scowl, and Emily wonders if this is really such a good idea after all because really, what do they know about Noel?

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually." Spencer wastes no time in pulling out the envelope, and Emily's eyes are on Noel's face as Spencer pulls out the photos and flips through them quickly, sees the way his widen slightly in surprise.

"Where did you get these?"

"That's not important," Spencer says, and Emily watches anger ripple across Noel's face at being ignored and all she can think is that they really should have done this somewhere more open. "What's important is what were you doing with Alison here?"

"I think it's pretty obvious what I was doing with her," he replies, and Emily wants to punch the smirk off his face so badly that her hand actually shakes. His eyes flicker over to her and his smirk widens. "Are you jealous?"

"Of you?" She says through gritted teeth, and she hates the way he looks at her, almost _pitying_, and she wants to scream. "Not likely."

"Well you don't have to worry about me – she was always way more into it than I was."

"Anyway," Spencer interjects hastily, forcing Noel's gaze back to her as Emily tries to get herself under control because she just really, really wants to _hurt _him. "That's not what I meant. What were you doing there?"

"Not until you tell me where you got them."

"I found them," Emily says with a shrug because _technically _that's true.

"You found them?" Noel says sceptically, shaking his head. "What, in my car?"

"What?" Spencer and Emily both ask at the same time, and when Noel leans forward to the glove compartment Emily tenses, wondering what he's doing, prepared for anything – what she doesn't expect, though, is for him to pull out a practically identical envelope, and when he opens the seal it's to show them the same photos that they have, and Emily is more confused than ever.

"Smart move, making copies," he mutters, almost to himself, and Emily and Spencer exchange a look when he's glancing away and when Spencer mouths 'play along' she can only nod. "Do you have a copy of the tapes, too?"

"We figured that was our best insurance policy," Spencer murmurs convincingly. "And of course we do, we just didn't bring it, just in-case. It's with a friend."

"A friend. That wouldn't be Alison, by any chance, would it?"

"No, she doesn't know about this. Which is why we're here. Tell us about the photos and the tapes, now. Or we're going to take these to the police, because I'm sure Detective Tanner would be very interested to know that you knew Alison was alive this whole time."

"You wouldn't throw Alison under the bus like that," Noel says, smirk back on his face, not buying Spencer's threat, but the brunette merely hardens her expression, raising a daring eyebrow.

"Try me. Because in-case you haven't noticed, Alison isn't in our good books right now, and I have no doubt that she'd hand us over in a heartbeat to save her own ass. So you talk, now, or the both of you are going down. How do you think you'd fare in prison, Noel? Because I don't think you'd do so well."

They size each other up for a moment and Emily can only watch, transfixed, and so, so glad that she doesn't have to do any of the talking because she is nowhere near as intimidating and commanding as Spencer, and Emily swears she can see respect swimming in Noel's sea blue eyes.

As she waits with bated breath for him to speak, her eyes gaze wanders to the outside world, having sort of forgotten that they're in the middle of the Rosewood High parking lot – and her eyes find Alison, and she swears she's drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

The blonde is staring towards them with a mixture of emotions on her face, and Emily can see shock and confusion and worry and sadness and she wonders what Alison thinks of them doing this, wants to know what's on her mind (she always wants to know what's on her mind), but when Noel speaks she forces her gaze away and back to him.

"Fine. I had these pictures taken. I hired a PI to follow me when I met up with Alison and take these."

"Why?"

"Insurance," he says simply, with a shrug. "Alison has a habit of using people and throwing them away, I'm sure you've noticed that. At first I helped her because I thought she was kind of hot and that I might have a chance if I was sweet to her, but when she turned into a crazy bitch I wanted out – only she wouldn't let me."

"She has something on you," Spencer murmurs, and Emily can practically see the puzzle pieces clicking into place in her head. "She's blackmailing you."

"You really think I'd do stupid shit like break into someone's house for her if she didn't? I'm not an idiot, Spencer. I've done some fucked up things for her and it's only because I didn't have a choice. But these," he waves the envelope in-front of him and Emily can't help but looking for Alison, sees the way her face pales when she notices what he's holding. "These are my way out from under that bitch's thumb."

"But if you send these to the police then you'll go down to," Spencer points out but he's shaking his head before she can finish.

"I wasn't sending all of these to the cops. No, there's a reason why I made sure there was specifically a photo of her and me kissing. I was going to threaten to show them to you." His eyes find Emily's again, and that mocking smirk is back. "She's real sweet on you, you know. I figure she'd want to stop you from seeing who she truly is and turning your back on her."

Emily forces her expression to remain blank, to not think about what he's saying – _suggesting_ – because if she thinks any more about the possibility of Alison DiLaurentis actually having feelings for her she's not sure she can survive.

"But the others?" He turns back to Spencer when he realizes Emily's not going to rise up to the bait. "The ones without me on? They were my plan B, but I guess they're my plan A now. You tell Alison that if she tries to force me to do anything ever again, if she ever so much as _looks _at me again, then these will find their way onto Detective Tanner's desk and all five of you can go down together."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The first of what will hopefully be several flashbacks throughout this story occurs in this chapter, and I'm going to put them all in italics just for ease. This is also the first chapter in Alison's POV.**

**The next update my by slightly slower as I'm out of the country for a week without my laptop so can't get any writing done, but hopefully it won't take me too long.**

**Aaand lastly I just want to thank everyone again for their reviews and follows, and favourites, I can't thank you enough.**

* * *

She used to love being alone.

She used to crave it, would love it whenever her Dad was at work and her Mom went out and Jason was… wherever the hell Jason went when he wasn't home, and she could just… _be_. It had been nice, to get away from the constant attention at school, everyone's eyes on her all the time (and she'd wanted that, she _had_, it was just a _lot_).

But now she hates it.

It reminds her too much of two years of loneliness, without human contact but aching for it, without friends or family (apart from those brief glimpses she caught from afar, whenever the danger of coming back to town had been overridden by the need to see those that she cared about, because after that first time, when she'd gone to see Hanna, she hadn't been able to stay away).

She still remembers the first time she'd seen Emily since that awful night, since she'd gone and disappeared and not looked back (except she had, she had all the time, she'd lived in the past, in the memory of the way Emily smelled and the way she laughed and the way her lips felt under Alison's and god, she'd loved her all along but she'd never been able to tell her, _still _couldn't tell her, and she hates herself for it)…

_She knows that it was a stupid idea to come back to town, she knows it with a certainty in her gut but it's not a strong enough feeling to turn her away. She just needs… she needs to see her, to see what she looks like, over a year later. _

_To make sure that she's okay. _

_She tugs her coat tighter around herself under the guise of being cold but really it's just so that she's covered up – the only part of her exposed is her face, and even half of that is hidden by the collar of her jacket, and her hair is covered by the dark wig and no-one should recognise her, everyone thinks that she's dead but she's always been paranoid and now is no exception. _

_She waits opposite the main door of the school, and she's being really stupid because _anyone _could see her, leaning there against a tree trunk, and Emily might not even come _by _this way, might be staying late for swim practice, and she should really just turn around and get the bus back to the crappy abandoned warehouse that she's living in currently but she just… can't. _

_She tells herself that she just needs to see Emily, just once, and then she'll turn around and leave (but a part of her wonders if she'll be able to, if she's strong enough for that, because she'd realized very quickly that Emily was the hardest one to leave behind, and she can't stop _thinking _about her and she's pretty sure it's because she… well, maybe not loves her because she's Alison DiLaurentis and she doesn't know what love _is_ but she cares about her, more than she's ever cared about anyone else ever in her entire life and she just… Emily's always on her mind, always haunting her dreams, and she can't escape her and now she's been back to town, taken that plunge for the first time she tells herself that once more can't hurt. _

_When she sees Emily she's sure that her heart stops beating in her chest, because she's so, so beautiful and she always had been but she's even more so, now, and god, Alison's an idiot because she'd only realized what she'd had when it was gone, and Emily will never be hers and she has no-one to blame for that but herself. _

_She's so transfixed by Emily that she doesn't notice, at first, that she's with someone else. But as she takes in the brunette's body (appraisingly, even though she feels like some kind of creeper, leering at her from across the street), she notices that she's holding hands with someone and her heart stops all over again because she's holding hands with a _girl_, she's smiling and laughing and joking with a _girl_ and then when they stop Emily leans down to brush a kiss against her lips and Alison's heart shatters and breaks because that should… _

_That should be _her_. _

She's _the one that Emily had used to look at like that, with so much love in her eyes, it had been Alison and only Alison, and she was the one who Emily had kissed, but that had been behind closed doors and never out in the open like this and she feels… she feels like she's been suckerpunched and she's whirling around the next second and disappearing around the next corner because she can't… she doesn't know how to _deal _with what she's seen._

_And it's not like she hadn't ever expected Emily to move on from her, but it stings all the same. It _more _than stings, it aches, and she feels like she can't breathe, and she has no _right _to feel like this because she's the one who always pushed Emily away instead of pulling her closer like she really wanted to, that's all on her, but it hurts, to see her happy with someone else like Alison had, in another reality, dreamed that they might be. _

_And she's selfish for resenting Emily for that, she knows she is. But as she heads back to the bus station to leave town (and she thinks, as she walks, that she might not ever come back, because it's too painful, it hurts too much, and if Emily can move on from her then she should be able to move on from Emily but she's not so sure she can because she's still there, in her mind, haunting her), she can't help the nagging thought in the back of her head, the taunting voice that screams that Emily's already forgotten about her, when Emily is all that Alison can remember_.

She hadn't been strong enough to stay away, though, had returned to town several times – always with an excuse but also always knowing that she came because she wanted to see Emily, needed another glimpse of her just to know that she was okay.

She found out about her and Maya through Noel – when she found out that Maya had been murdered she'd wanted so desperately to go back to Rosewood, to find Emily and to _comfort _her, but she _couldn't _because she'd been sure that the sight of her would've just broken Emily even more.

Because just like she'd said last night, Alison had left town – left Emily behind – and even though it's the hardest thing that she'd ever had to do she'd still _done _it, had been absent for two years and she can't take any of that back, can't get that time back, has wasted countless days and weeks and months that she could have had with Emily, if only she hadn't been such a _bitch_.

She's under no illusions that her current situation isn't entirely her own fault, because she knows it is. If she'd been a little nicer, and little kinder, then she never would've driven Mona to do the things that she'd done (and it's not _all _on her, because Mona clearly has some issues, too, but she'd been the catalyst for it all, her and her inability to feel compassion, to take pleasure in torturing people around her in order to feel better about herself).

And without Mona's transformation she wouldn't have received any A texts at all, wouldn't have been driven from town (wouldn't nearly have had her skull cracked open, wouldn't have been buried alive – sometimes, in her dreams, she's in that grave again, swallowing dirt and she's _suffocating _and there's no better way to hurt Alison than to strangle her and make her feel like that again, and she hates that A knows that – by her own mother, protecting a person whose identity she can't even begin to guess), wouldn't have had her life ruined and wouldn't have brought her four friends down with her.

That's her biggest regret – that they had to suffer, too. Because Alison deserved it all, she'd been a bitch and a monster and she's a bad person, but the four of them? They were nothing like her, deserved none of this, but because she'd chosen to surround herself with them they were tainted, tainted by her influence, and now they've been ruined, too – all because of her.

But it's too late to change the past (much as she might wish to – and she does, it consumes her, she lies awake at night thinking about what she would have done differently, if she had the chance, and it's really no surprise to her that most of them are to do with Emily, because she is her biggest regret, the way she treated her when they were younger, the way she'd made her feel ashamed of her sexuality and the way she felt about Alison when she should have embraced it), she knows that – but it doesn't stop her from agonizing over it in her every waking moment.

She agonizes over last night, too – has been ever since Emily had stormed away from her and left her, alone and devastated, in her room with nothing but those damned pictures for company. She'd called Spencer because she couldn't bear the thought of Emily doing something stupid because she was drunk, had needed to know that she was okay, and as soon as she'd known that she allowed herself her own breakdown.

She didn't drink, even though she wanted to. She wanted to drown herself in a bottle of vodka, drink until it stopped burning the back of her throat, drink until she couldn't even remember Emily's face, the agony etched into it as she'd walked away, let alone all the horrible things that she's done to her.

Instead she'd cried until she couldn't breathe, allowed herself a single night to fall apart before she'd put the pieces of her shattered heart and soul back together, because she was Alison DiLaurentis and she didn't show weakness, not for anybody – she had to go out and pretend that she was fine, even though she was broken, possibly beyond repair.

And school had been exhausting, because she had no-one to turn to. Aria wasn't talking to the others (not that she'd tell Alison _why_), but it became obvious to her soon enough that the brunette was uncomfortable with it just being the two of them and had spared her for the rest of the day after they'd gone their separate ways for first period, spending her lunch hour hiding in a classroom and trying to forget the way that Emily's eyes had bored into her back during the single class that they shared.

She was glad that at least Emily had the other girls, even it meant that Alison was on her own, because she was the one at fault, she was the one who had broken Emily's heart yet again (however inadvertently, and she hates A for directing Emily to those photographs).

When she hears a knock on the front door it startles her, because she isn't expecting anyone – no-one's _talking _to her, her Dad is still at work and wouldn't need to knock anyway, and she's immediately wary even though she knows that if it were anyone that meant her harm they wouldn't knock to announce their presence.

Pepe is with her, hasn't left her side ever since Emily had stormed out of the house yesterday – he'd bounded over to her where she'd collapsed on her bedroom floor, stuck his wet nose in her face and licked her cheek, let her wrap her arms around his neck and cry into his fur until it was damp and the tears had finally stopped falling – and it's comforting, to know that at the very least she isn't _completely _alone.

She glances through the peephole before she opens the door, is surprised to see Spencer on the other side because she and Spencer have never been close, have always been more frenemies than friends, forever challenging the other, and she'd expected that, after seeing the photos and questioning Noel, that Spencer would want nothing to do with her ever again.

She pulls the door open with trepidation in her heart, because she's not really sure why the brunette is here but she's pretty sure it can't be for a _good _reason, but the smile that flashes across Spencer's face when she sees Alison doesn't seem forced, and she's more confused than ever.

"Hey." Pepe darts through the gap to say hello, his tail wagging frantically behind him as Spencer rubs a hand over his head and pats his back gently.

"Can I come in?" The brunette asks and Alison nods, stepping aside to let her through and shutting the door behind them, leading her into the kitchen (because it feels too personal, somehow, to go up to her bedroom with Spencer, and she can't bear to go into the living room since she'd been strangled), and the brunette follows her quietly.

"Can I get you anything?" She asks as Spencer leans against the kitchen counter, Pepe hovering around her, just for something to _do _because she doesn't know how to act around any of her friends anymore, not really – they're all so different and she knows that they don't trust her in the slightest, and she never expected coming back to be quite so… _difficult_. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea, I guess." Alison nods, more to herself than anything else, busying herself with boiling the kettle and fetching mugs from the cupboard, all the time feeling Spencer's gaze on her back. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She plants her hands on the kitchen counter, standing by the sink and refusing to turn around, but in the reflection of the kitchen window she can see the look of sympathy on Spencer's face and she _hates _it.

"You were pretty upset last night," the brunette says carefully, and Alison curses herself for not having the strength to keep her voice steady enough on the phone with Spencer, for letting the brunette know that she was crying.

"Well I'm fine," she snaps, voice harsher than she intended, but she can't _help _it – she doesn't like feeling weak, she's an expert at wearing a mask and hiding her true emotions and she hates the fact that last night she'd cracked.

"I was just asking," Spencer mutters, and Alison closes her eyes, forces herself to take several deep breaths to calm herself down – the kettle boils and she makes the tea with shaking hands, and by the time she's turning around to place the mug down in-front of Spencer she feels a little better.

"Why are you here?" She asks, cutting right to the chase, because there's no way Spencer would be here without a reason – she's not one for spontaneity, and despite living just next door, before Alison disappeared she rarely dropped by unannounced, and with how different things are now a visit isn't something that Alison would have ever expected.

"I wanted to check on you," she shrugs as she lifts the mug to her lips, curling her hands around it and watching Alison over the rim with inquisitive eyes, and Alison wonders how awful she must've sounded on the phone, how terrible she must've looked when the brunette had stopped by to get the photos, to warrant this level of concern.

"And?" Alison prompts, because there's something else, she can tell – she's always been good at reading people, it's one of the things that had made her so good at being such a bitch, because she could always tell the exact right moment to pick a fight, knew the exact right thing to say to strike the hardest blow.

"_And _I wanted to give you these back." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope and Alison eyes it with distaste because she knows that what lies inside it is the reason she's lost whatever slim chance she'd had with Emily since coming back, and why on earth would she want a reminder of that?

"I don't want them," she says immediately, shoving them back towards Spencer as the brunette pushes them in her direction. "You can have them. Keep them, burn them, I don't care."

"They're evidence that you were lying about being kidnapped," Spencer points out, and Alison's teeth grind because does Spencer think that she's an _idiot_? "Aren't you being kind of… trusting? To just give them to me?"

"You went along with my story."

"Theoretically we could say that we had no idea you were lying."

"Theoretically." Alison regards Spencer carefully, takes in the determined set of the brunette's jaw and knows that, if it came down to a choice between Alison or the others, Spencer wouldn't be choosing her, and she files that away for later – she's sure that she can think of a way to keep Spencer under her thumb, if it comes down to it, but she doesn't _want _to, wants to show them that she's changed (wants to show _herself _that she's changed). "I think I'll take that chance."

"Why?"

"Because I don't _want _them," she hisses, prodding at the envelope again until it falls off the edge of the countertop and Spencer has to lunge to catch it, shaking her head before sliding it back into the pocket of her jacket.

"Suit yourself." They regard each other over the counter and Alison thinks that it feels a little like old times, when they were more likely to tear out each other's throats than hug, and she wonders what Emily's told her – and if she's told her everything, what Spencer thinks of it all. What she thinks of Alison – wonders if she would've told Emily that Alison was bad news, to forget all about her and go back to Paige.

Even the thought stings – she knows what it's like to see Emily with someone else, but only from afar, she's only had brief glimpses of her with Maya and she'd seen her once with Paige (she hadn't been able to decide how she felt about that, at the time, to know that Paige had gotten the girl, in the end, despite what Alison had done to her – she wonders now if it means that she still has a chance and quickly pushes the thought away), doesn't know if she'd be able to handle watching her have a relationship with someone who isn't her up close.

"Don't you want to know what we asked Noel?" Spencer's voice startles her out of her thoughts and she raises an eyebrow, unaware that Spencer had seen her watching them. "Emily mentioned that she saw you. I thought you'd be curious."

It's almost funny, to see how confused Spencer is by her, now, to watch the wheels turning in the brunette's mind, trying to figure her out. Alison had never been an open book but it had been Spencer who had known her the most, because they were startlingly similar, in some ways, but she's no longer so easy to read, knows that she's confusing the brunette because she's not doing anything that she expected.

And truthfully, she _is _curious, has been ever since her eyes had landed on the three of them in Noel's car. Of course, she had her suspicions – she'd been obsessing about it all night, choosing to focus on that instead of the thought of Emily and her broken heart – but she couldn't decide on anything for sure.

"I figured if I needed to know then you'd tell me." She can't help but smirk when she sees the frown on Spencer's face, because the old Alison would have never said that, would have stopped at nothing to know everything she could.

"So _do _you want to know?"

"Only if you want to tell me." She smiles serenely at Spencer over the lip of her mug as she raises it to her mouth, and maybe she's enjoying this a little too much, but she's been on her own all day and she'll take her entertainment however she can get it, these days.

"Noel took them," the brunette says eventually, and she watches Alison carefully, searching for a reaction, but the blonde keeps her face carefully blank. "You're blackmailing him." It isn't a question, so she doesn't answer it – Spencer doesn't need to know what she has on Noel, none of them do. "And he wants it to stop. The photos are his insurance policy."

"Let me guess, he'll go to the police the next time I ask him to do something for me."

"Yep." Alison can't really say that she's surprised – when she'd asked Noel to break in to Hanna's she'd sensed the resentment there, had felt it coming for a while now, if she was being honest, had wondered if he was plotting something.

At least now she knew though _damn _him, for causing this.

"And…" Spencer starts but then trails off, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth, and Alison just raises an expectant eyebrow. "I just thought you'd want to know because I know I would, but he uh… he used you. He kissed you just so he'd have a picture of it. To use against you."

"To show to Emily." Her mouth twists into a grimace as Spencer gives a nod of confirmation, and really, she should've have expected something like this. She never told Noel how she felt about Emily, but he was the one she'd gone to, to ask about Maya and then Paige, and there had always been a knowing smirk on his face any time she'd mentioned Emily's name, and she'd used to wonder when she'd started to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"Good thing he never meant a thing to me, then," she mutters, mostly to herself. She'd only kissed him twice – the one time in the photos and once before then, not long after she'd gone back to Rosewood and seen Emily and Maya together, when she'd felt so desperately alone that the weight of it had been crushing her, and he'd looked at her like he wanted her and told her that she was beautiful and she'd thought that if Emily had someone else then maybe she could, too.

But his lips weren't soft, his mouth was hard and demanding against hers, his hands too large and too possessive on her waist, and she'd pushed him away almost immediately, filled with regret and an aching loneliness that she felt all the way down to her bones, hating herself for thinking that it would be so easy to erase Emily from her memory (and hating the fact that a part of her even wanted that in the first place).

It stings to know that she's lost another friend, though, because that's what she'd thought of him as, at least at the start. But first Shana and now Noel have turned on her and hung her out to dry, and she's lost Emily now, too, and with her the other three and somehow she feels more alone now than she ever did when she was on the run.

"Can I… ask you something?" It's the hesitation in Spencer's voice that makes her wary, and she suspects that a question about Emily is coming that she isn't going to want to answer even as she nods. "Do you really care about her?"

"I… It's complicated," she sighs, because she can't spill her heart to Spencer when she can't even tell _Emily _how she feels, and in any case, she's not really sure that she knows _how _to. "But yes. I care about her a lot. I always did."

"You had a funny way of showing it." Alison winces, and she wishes more than anything, with her entire _being_, that she could take all of it back. "I never knew, back then. I always… suspected, that there was something more going on with the two of you, but I didn't know what. And when she told us I… I was so _angry _with you, because how could you put her through that? How could you… how could you treat someone like that? A _friend_?"

"I'm not going to defend myself to you." She lifts her chin defiantly, narrows her eyes into a fearsome glare because Spencer doesn't have any right to question her about things that she doesn't _understand_, she doesn't have to explain herself to _anyone _(aside from Emily, but Alison's pretty sure that the brunette wants absolutely nothing to do with her right now, maybe she won't ever again).

"I'm not asking you to. I just want to know why you did it. How you could treat her like shit and then turn around and say that you were in love with her the whole time."

"You don't know what it was like," she says quietly, her eyes dropping to focus on the kitchen counter.

"Then help me _understand_."

"I was scared."

"So was she." Spencer's voice is hard, and Alison's lips quirk into a bitter smile because she's glad, that Emily has someone like Spencer looking out for her – even if it means that she's on the end of the brunette's questioning, this time. She's glad that they're all still friends, that they all have each other, and that they'd managed to stick together, even after all they've been through.

They deserve that, even if it does make her feel like she's an outsider. She was the one who had brought them all together, who had made them stronger by introducing them, and she's glad that their friendship had survived.

"If you're expecting me to say that what I did wasn't horrible, then you're gonna be disappointed. I know I hurt her, I know I was wrong and I'd apologize a thousand times a day for it all if I thought for a second she'd listen to me.

"But I fucked up again and she can't even bear to be in the same room with me, so I don't know what you want me to say to you. That I'm sorry? Because I am. I've spent the past two years with nothing for company other than the memories of the girl I used to be and every morning I woke up disgusted by some of the things that I did and if I could go back and change it all I would in a heartbeat, because none of you deserved what I put you through.

"But I can't change any of it and I can't make it right, all I can do is try to prove to you that I've changed, even if none you believe that I have. So if you're here to tell me that I'm a shitty person then thanks, I already know that and I don't really need a reminder so could you just… leave. Please."

She hadn't really meant to say all of that – or even anything at all – but once she'd opened her mouth it was like a flood, and she always thought that you were supposed to feel better about yourself once you let your feelings out, but instead she feels even worse.

"I'm sorry, Alison, I…"

"I don't need your sympathy." She's let her walls down too far, she's said too much, and she's immediately back on the offensive, her voice cold and her stare hard. "And I really would appreciate it if you went home – I have things to do."

"Because you have such a busy life?" The brunette taunts, and Alison flinches, just a little, because once upon a time she would have had endless possibilities for what to do with her spare time, endless people to spend it with – and now the hours of loneliness stretch before her, seemingly with no end in sight.

"Get out," she snaps, and Spencer rolls her eyes but straightens up, her mug clattering onto the marble countertop as she pushes herself away, and Alison follows her to the door.

"I'm not going to tell you to stay away from her," Spencer murmurs as she pauses in the doorway, her back to the blonde – when she turns to look at Alison over her shoulder there's a warning in her eyes. "Because I don't think you'd listen and I don't have any right to tell either of you what to do anyway. But if you hurt her again, if you upset her again, if you make her _cry _again, you'll wish that you really had died that night you were buried."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: An extra-long chapter to make up for it taking a little longer (just don't get used to it haha). Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Alison realizes pretty soon after Spencer's gone home that spending the night home alone isn't going to do her any good – all she seems to be able to do is brood, replaying her conversation with Emily from the previous night and then her conversation with Spencer, too, the brunette's threat still looming (and she has no doubt that Spencer can make her life a living hell, doesn't want that or the isolation that she knows will come along with it, and she wonders, not for the first time, if coming home had been such a good idea after all).

Sometimes Rosewood doesn't even feel like her home, anymore. Sure, she recognizes the streets and the places and some of the people, but there's a lot that's different (including in her own home – her mother's gone and her brother's in the wind and her father doesn't seem to be able to bear being in the same room with her for longer than an hour, and some days she wonders why she'd even come back here at all).

Well, she knows why, technically – Emily had asked and she'd come running, too weak to walk away from the brunette for a second time, but now she's messed it all up before anything could even start, and there's a voice in the back of her head telling her that things would be so much easier if she just left town again.

She hadn't been altogether serious about it, after Toby's house had blown up – she'd been scared, yes, but she'd been scared to leave, too, scared of what it would do to Emily, to have Alison back only for her to disappear again (she thinks that maybe now the brunette wishes that she _had _gone, perhaps that would be less cruel than the damage Alison has inflicted on her since then), and she doesn't know if she would have actually been able to go through with it, had A not taken the decision out of her hands.

She ends up taking Pepe out for a walk, unable to stand the dark, oppressive silence of the empty house any longer, and she clips on his lead and takes him around the block, deciding to wander through the park.

It's getting dark out, the days becoming shorter, but she doesn't mind it – she likes the twinkle of the stars in the sky above, moonlight filtering down and lighting their way, and she always loved walking at dusk, wondering what secrets she could discover as the light faded and night began (because people naïvely thought that the darkness offered them protection from prying eyes like hers).

Pepe pulls her along, his tail wagging constantly as he sniffs along the sidewalk, and it's nice, to feel like a normal teenager for once. She'd always wanted a dog, when she was younger, but her Mom had never let her have one – she thinks it's ironic that she has one now, when her Mom is gone, her parting gift to the daughter she'd never said goodbye to.

The park is unusually quiet but Alison likes it, likes hearing the chirping of crickets as she lets Pepe off his lead to roam free, and she throws him the ball she brought with them, smiles softly as he bounds across the grass to retrieve it and bring it back, having learnt pretty quickly that fetch was a game that he would never tire of.

When she sees two figures sitting on a bench a little way away she thinks nothing of it – at least until Pepe takes off towards them at a run, and Alison is horrified as she jogs after him, and promptly stops in her tracks when she realizes just _who_, exactly, Pepe has run to.

He'd loved Emily since the day he'd come to Alison (the blonde thought that he loved Emily more than her, sometimes, with the way he reacted every time to brunette came around, vying with Alison for Emily's attention), and he barks excitedly as he hurtles to a stop just in-front of the bench, and Emily hops down from it (swaying unsteadily as she does so, and Alison sighs because she's obviously been drinking _again_), and says hello to him.

Hanna, Emily's unsurprising companion, eyes Alison warily as the blonde just watches the scene from a few yards away, and she sighs before moving closer because doesn't want to leave the two of them out here drunk off their asses, because _anything _could happen to them – they could get attacked, or hounded by A, any number of awful things could happen and what were they _thinking_?

"What are you doing out here?" She asks as she nears the bench, burying her hands in her pocket and tugging her coat tighter around herself, feeling the chill of the night air against her exposed skin, and Emily remains crouching on the floor with her arms around Pepe but does glance up at Alison, and it's the first time the brunette's made eye contact with her all day and even though she looks like crap she's still the most beautiful woman Alison's ever seen, and she can still take her breath away with just a single look.

"What are _you_ doing out here?" Hanna counters, openly glaring at Alison, slurring her words, and Alison rolls her eyes and then, when she notices the half-empty bottle of alcohol on the bench beside the blonde, she lunges forward and snatches it away, Hanna too slow to stop her. "Hey! Give that back."

"No," the blonde says stubbornly, as she unscrews the lid and pours the liquid within onto the grass beside her feet, and it's really kind of comical, that _she's _the responsible one in this little group. "You're going to drink yourselves to death."

"Maybe that's the point." Hanna is sullen as Alison hands the empty bottle back to her, and the blonde takes it with a scoff before dropping it to the ground. "What's it like, Ali?" The blonde pauses as she leans down to grab the bottle back and turns to the nearest bin, made curious by the tone of Hanna's voice. "To know that you drive people _to _drink themselves to death?"

"Hanna," Emily warns, and she rises to her feet and leans back against the bench with a severe look on her face as she regards the blonde in question.

"What? Don't fucking defend her to me, Emily. Not you, of all people. Do you really think she gives a fuck? About any of us?" Alison's never seen Hanna so angry – her eyes are dark, flashing with a fury that's probably been building for a long time, the blonde keeping inside the years of insults and Alison's taunting about her weight and all her insecurities, and they all come pouring out now and really, Alison deserves this.

She deserves all of this – all of this destruction that she's wrought, crashing down around her – and karma really is a bitch, after all.

"Are you not going to defend yourself?" Hanna's voice is loud, her expression twisted into a glare as she meets Alison's eyes, and the blonde can only look at the two of them, these girls that she loves, and wonder how much better off they'd be without her. "Well?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," she answers carefully, digging her hands deeper into her pockets and pulling her coat even tighter around herself, as though it would offer protection from the sting of Hanna's words.

"How about a fucking apology for once in your life? How about actually standing up and admitting what a shitty person you are? How about apologizing for letting the four of us think you were _dead_? Or for all the shit we went through because of you? How about showing some fucking _remorse _for what you did to us? You come back to town and pretend everything is fine and nothing's changed, and you're right – because you're still the same cold-hearted _bitch _that you always were before, and sometimes I wonder if we'd all be better off if you really _were _dead."

She flinches at the vehemence in Hanna's words, feels the sting of tears in her eyes even as a thrill of fury shivers down her spine – her hands curl into fists, her nails biting into her palms hard enough to draw blood as she wills herself not to speak out.

Because she knows that Hanna means every word, but she also knows that the blonde's drunk, has no control over what she's saying – and Alison can't be mad at her for that, can't try to show them all that she wants to be better person if she lets her rage take over and snaps at the blonde like she wants to.

She wants to scream at her that she has no idea what it was like, to be threatened and tortured by someone for _months _and to doubt every person around you. To not know who you could trust – if anyone.

She wants to shout at her that at least, despite everything else, the four of them had each other. They had each other to lean on when it got to be too much, to confide in – but she never had that. She was all alone, just like she always has been.

Sometimes she wonders if she always will be.

She wants to grab Hanna by the shoulders and shake her, to tell her about the horrors she'd endured living on her own for the last two years, because none of it had been easy. She'd left town because she'd thought it would be safer (and really, how much more _unsafe _could it be, after being buried alive by your own _mother _because she loved someone else enough to protect them over you?), but she'd been wrong.

She has a scar on her thigh to prove that.

But she keeps herself quiet (barely – it's a struggle, and she has to take deep breaths and grind her teeth and look away from Hanna's baleful eyes because she can't crack, she _can't_, she can't let either of them see how much this hurts her, how much she needs them), instead turns away from the pair of them and drags her phone out of her pocket and calls the one person that she can count on to help her out, because no matter how mad she is, she can't leave the two of them out here alone.

"_I'm surprised you even want to talk to me after our conversation earlier."_

"Yeah, well, I need your help," she sighs, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to check that Hanna and Emily are still there. "It's Emily and Hanna."

"_Let me guess," _Spencer replies with a sigh of her own. _"They're drunk."_

"Extremely. Could you come and pick us up? We're in the park, I could use some help trying to get the two of them home in one piece."

"We don't need babysitting," Hanna snaps from behind her, "especially not by _you_." Alison whirls around, anger flashing in her blue eyes as her tenuous control snaps.

"Oh yeah? Then how the fuck do you plan on getting home? I can see your car keys – were you planning on driving back? Maybe you want to wrap your car around a tree or a lamppost. That'd be a quicker way to go than drinking yourselves to death, like you seem intent on doing. Maybe I _should _let you drive, maybe I'll come along with you – that way at least you'll finally be rid of me and god, I think everyone in this town knows how much the four of you want _that_."

She shakes with the force of her words, feels her fury licking like fire through her veins, and both Hanna and Emily just look at her, wide-eyed, and all she can hear is the sound of her pounding heart and Spencer's even breathing in her ear.

"_Alison –"_

"Don't fucking _lecture _me, Spencer," she hisses down the phone, because she's had _enough_, enough of all of this, and maybe she really _is _as much of a bitch as they all make her out to be, but she doesn't _care_ anymore.

"_I wasn't going to_," the brunette replies quietly, and Alison remembers her earlier concern, when they'd been in her kitchen and sighs, all the fight going out of her and she just wants to collapse to the floor and maybe never move again. _"I can't come and help you – my parents want to talk to me and Melissa about what's happening with the divorce, but I can send someone else to help. Give me a few minutes." _

x-x-x

It feels like an age, waiting for the help that Spencer promised. The brunette had hung up and then had called Hanna back a few moments later – or Alison assumes that's who the blonde's talking animatedly to, anyway.

She'd walked a few steps away from the two of them to lean against the trunk of a nearby tree, close enough to keep an eye and make sure they're not harbouring more alcohol but far enough away to not be able to hear what they're saying.

Emily has been quiet throughout the whole ordeal, barely even speaking to Hanna whenever the blonde turns to ask her something, and Alison would give everything she has just to know what the brunette's thinking.

She'd used to be able to read Emily like a book – it was easy, to guess what was on her mind. She wore her heart on her sleeve and her emotions in her eyes, and Alison had always been good at reading people, but Emily was easier than most.

But now she's an enigma that she feels like she barely knows. And she supposes that she doesn't, not really, because a lot's changed since she was last here in town and while she's so, so happy that Emily has turned out to be so sure and so strong and so _good _in spite of everything that she's been through, a selfish part of her longs for the old days when things have _easier_.

When help arrives, it's not in a form she's expecting. She'd told Spencer where to find them before she'd hung up, and when she sees a male figure striding towards them she frowns, because she'd figured Aria would probably be who Spencer called – she doesn't recognise Caleb until he's illuminated by a nearby streetlight, and she pulls out her phone to text the brunette, a frown on her face.

_Caleb? Seriously? I thought he was part of the reason why Hanna's drinking so much, is this really a good idea? _

Hanna doesn't look happy to see him – in fact, she glares at Alison like it's all _her _fault when he eventually reaches them – but Alison just ignores her as her phone chimes with Spencer's reply.

_I went to talk to him after I left yours – told him to get his act together and help her out. They need each other. They'll get each other through this. _

Alison isn't so sure, but she supposes she has no right to argue. She knows nothing about him, really, or his relationship with Hanna, but she trusts that Spencer does and slides her phone back into her pocket as she makes her way over to him.

"You can go home now, I've got it from here," he says, barely even glancing towards her, but it's enough for her to smell the stale scent of beer on his breath and she narrows her eyes into a glare as she takes a step closer to him.

"_You're _drunk as well? I thought Spencer told you to clean yourself up!"

"Not that it's any of your _business_," he glances towards her, face full of contempt and she's taken aback by the hatred that someone she barely knows can hold for her. "But I didn't know that I was going to have to come to the rescue. I'd already had a drink or two before Spencer came to see me – I didn't see the harm in having a couple more and starting sobriety tomorrow."

"Isn't that what people who intend to put it off say? 'Oh, I'll just do it tomorrow?'"

"I don't need a lesson on how to live my life from _you_," he snarls, lips curling into a mocking smirk, and Alison's hands clench once more, her jaw setting. "Why are you even here, anyway? I didn't think you cared enough to actually lower yourself to helping somebody without getting something out of it."

"You don't know anything about me." Her voice is cold, flat and emotionless, and he watches her with avid interest, that damn smirk still on his face. "So don't _presume _anything. You take care of Hanna, and I'll make sure Emily gets home safe."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Caleb replies with a wary look towards where Emily is sitting curled up on the floor with Pepe lying beside her, his head on her lap (he's barely spared Alison a glance since running over there, the traitor).

"Well seeing as you're drunk yourself I really don't think you're up to making any decisions," she snaps, because suddenly she's _exhausted _and she just wants to get out of there. "So why don't you shut up, take her home, and both of you can sober up together."

She doesn't leave him time to argue, instead heading over towards Emily and extending a hand towards the brunette to help her stand. She stares at it for a moment, and Alison thinks for one terrifying moment that she's messed things up between them so much that Emily will refuse to take it and demand to go with the other two, but eventually she grasps Alison's hand with her own and allows the blonde to haul her to her feet.

She knows that it's probably a bad idea to be with Emily right now, when she's so drunk that she can't even walk in a straight line, but she can't bear to let her go now that she's with her, because she doesn't know when – _if –_ she'll get the chance again.

Emily leans her weight heavily on Alison as they make their way back to the brunette's house (Alison is glad that Emily lives closer to the park than she does), with the support of Alison's arm wrapped around her lower back, Pepe trotting along beside them.

They don't talk, and the blonde doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing. She doesn't even know if Emily is aware of what's going on around her – there's a dazed expression on her face and her eyes stay trained on the floor, focusing on her shuffling feet.

It's a torturous fifteen minute walk that should normally only take five, and Alison realizes too late her mistake in that she's never going to get the brunette past her mother and up to bed when she's got Pepe along with them, too.

And she can't just leave him outside, because she always hates seeing dogs tied up outside shops while their owners are inside, so she resigns herself to facing the wrath of Mrs Fields as she knocks on the front door (instead of rooting around in Emily's pockets for her keys), and when Emily's Mom opens the door the way her eyes widen would have been comical under any other circumstances.

"Is she _drunk_?" She whispers, horrified, as Emily's head lolls back onto Alison's shoulder, and the blonde can only offer up her best sheepish expression as she tries not to sag under their combined weight.

"Um, it's a long story." Pam reaches out for Emily's other arm and helps Alison manoeuvre Emily into the house. "But yes. Probably very drunk but I don't know for sure. I found her and Hanna in the park."

"Well… thank you, for getting her back safely." There's a frown on Pam's face, and Alison wonders just how much of a telling off the brunette's going to get when she wakes up in the morning. "I'll take it from here."

She's kind of loathe to leave, especially when she doesn't know when she'll see the brunette again – or, well, _talk _to her again because she's sure she'll see Emily in the torturous class that they have together, or catch glimpses of her in the hallways at school like she had today, but none of that is _enough_ – but she can't think of a reason to disagree so she just nods and twists away from the hold that Emily's managed to get on her, transferring over to Pam's shoulder instead.

But the brunette's hand closes around her wrist as she turns to walk away, her grip surprisingly strong consider how inebriated she is, and Alison wonders for a second if Emily is even aware of what she's doing, until the brunette speaks.

"No." Her voice is quiet but forceful, and she tugs a little on Alison's sleeve, dragging her a little closer. "Don't leave me. Not again." Her voice cracks, and yet more tears spring into Alison's eyes and she's not quick enough to blink them away before a couple escape, and she knows that Pam notices as she lifts the arm that's not being held by Emily to wipe them away with the back of her hand.

"You're the one that keeps walking away from me," she says, softly, because she's had to watch Emily walk away from her twice within the last week and it _hurts_, like little shards of glass in her heart, pressing deeper and deeper with every breath that she takes until she feels like maybe she has no heart left to tear at all.

"Don't leave," Emily repeats, voice pleading, and Alison just looks helplessly at the brunette's Mom – she looks torn, her gaze flitting between the two of them. "_Please_."

"I'll need some help getting her up the stairs," Pam says eventually, reluctance written all over her face and it makes Alison pale, just a little, wondering just what, exactly, the brunette's mother knows about their… can she call it a relationship? She doesn't really think she can, considering the fact that they've never even been on so much as a date, but sometimes she _feels _like they're in one, because her heart has belonged to Emily Fields for as long as she can remember.

She takes Emily's left side and Pam gets her right, and they make it up the stairs in one piece, Alison turning into Emily's room and flicking the light on before they lead the brunette over to the bed – she collapses face-first against the covers and Alison rolls her gently so that she's lying on her side, trying to ignore the fact that the brunette's shirt has ridden up significantly to reveal a strip of toned skin beneath and god, she should _not _be thinking about things like that right now.

Except she can't _help _it. Can't help her mind flitting back to that night (it felt like ages ago, now), in her room when Emily's mouth had been hard and demanding against hers, when she'd allowed herself to let go, a little, to be bolder than she'd ever dared before, and let her hands wander across the brunette's body.

She'd never thought that something as simple as kissing could ever be so… _erotic_, but that's what it was like, being with Emily. Emily kissed her like she mattered, like she was everything, and it had made her head spin and her heart pound she she'd never felt quite so _alive _in her life.

And the memory of it haunts her – at night she dreams of the feeling of Emily's tongue stroking against her own, of the sound of the brunette's moan when Alison's hands had dared to slide down, one cupping the back of her bare thigh and the other digging into her ass to bring her closer, and she remembers the heat of Emily's skin beneath her fingertips and she's woken up with an unbearable ache between her legs more times than she can count ever since.

But she should _not _be thinking about that right now, when Emily looks like she's about ready to pass out, lying there on-top of the covers fully clothed and with Emily's _mother's _eyes on her and god, she really _does _have issues.

"I'll… leave you two, to talk," Pam says after several seconds of heavy silence in which Alison can only shift her weight from one foot to the other anxiously. "If you could try and get her out of those clothes – at least the shoes and the jacket – that would be a great help." Alison bites her lip at the thought of trying to wrestle Emily out of her clothes, and she didn't want the first time that she undressed her to be in _these _circumstances, but she nods anyway and Pam disappears after casting another worried glance towards them.

Alison doesn't miss the fact that she leaves the bedroom door deliberately wide open, and it makes her worry once more about just what, exactly, Emily's told her mother about them. Does she know about all the horrible things that Alison did to her daughter? And if she did, then how can she still look Alison in the eye without wanting to kick her out of the house?

She pushes the thought away, though, because now isn't the time – though she supposes she could get an answer to any question she asked Emily at this point, with how drunk she is. And there are a dozen at the tip of her tongue, but she won't ask any of them.

She can't, not when she shrouds herself in secrets like they're a veil, not when she can't even bear to show her soul to Emily (and maybe it's because a part of her is scared that, if Emily knew everything about her, saw everything that she was, knows about all the things she's done and all the people she's hurt, that she'll run away and never look back, and she doesn't think she could bear it). She can't be desperate for the truth when she's not strong enough to give it, herself.

She's pretty sure that Emily's asleep – her breathing is even and her eyes are closed, and she hasn't said a word since she'd begged her not to leave (and Alison thinks about how easy it would be, to just slip out of the door, now, when Emily's none the wiser, but a part of her can't stand the thought of letting Emily down again, even if she probably won't want to face her in the morning) – but she still hesitates before sighing softly and falling to her knees by the side of the bed, hands reaching out for one of Emily's legs and dragging the zipper of her boot down as gently and as quietly as she can before doing the other.

When they're both off she turns to put them to the side, out of the way so that neither of them will trip over them later on – and when she turns around she jumps, startled, because Emily has risen silently so that she's sitting up on the edge of the bed, looking down at her with dark, dark eyes.

Her expression is inscrutable, and Alison longs to know what she's thinking and hates that she can't even guess, and she's trapped beneath the weight if Emily's gaze, feelings like she can barely breathe and she's distantly aware of the pounding of her heart in her ears and she feels like she's waiting for something but she doesn't know _what_.

She's not all that surprised when Emily reaches for her and crushes their lips together in a kiss that's full of desperation. It's similar to the last one they'd shared, where she'd been terrified of Emily walking away from her for good, wondering if it would be their last kiss – this one is all teeth and tongue, Emily's lips hard and unrelenting against hers, and it's a world away from the kisses they'd exchanged in Alison's bed, all shy looks and soft touches.

_This _sends a thrill down her spine, _this _has her hands sliding up Emily's thighs to come to rest at her waist (and the moan that rumbles through the brunette's chest has heat pooling between her thighs).

And she knows that they should stop.

She knows that _she _should stop this because she's the sober one, and she knows there's no way that Emily would be doing this if she weren't drunk. She wouldn't be kissing her as though her life depended on it, in a way that has her head spinning and air disappearing from her lungs as she struggles to remember how to breathe. She wouldn't be tangling her hands in Alison's hair and tugging hard enough to make her hiss in pain (but it's oh, so sweet at the same time).

They're a living, breathing disaster and they should be staying far away from each other – _Alison _should be staying far away from this woman who she's bent and she's broken and she's shattered perhaps beyond repair, instead of drowning in her and making everything a hundred times worse.

She's filled with remorse when she does eventually tear her lips away from Emily's (and misery, too, wondering if she'll ever get to feel this again – and she feels guilty for even wanting it to, for wanting something that shouldn't have ever happened in the first place), but the brunette doesn't let go of her, instead twists her head to the side and presses a heated kiss just below Alison's jaw and she shudders, her breathing ragged and her lips bruised.

"Em-Emily," her voice shakes as Emily's teeth scrape across her skin, and it takes every bit of willpower she has not to moan because _god _that feels so good. "We should stop."

"Why?" Comes the response, breathed against the side of her neck as Emily's lips continue to trail lower, and her hands slide out of Alison's hair and that's all she needs – she pushes herself away from the brunette and scrambles to her feet.

"Because you're drunk." Her hands tremble and all she can think about is the feelings of Emily's lips on her skin and it would be so, so easy to go back over there, to throw herself at a woman that she knows wants her even if she wishes she wouldn't. "And I'm not going to take advantage of you like that."

Emily's lips quirk into a bitter smile, and she shrugs herself out of her jacket and Alison has to force her eyes away, instead trains them on the floor. "Not drunk enough," she hears Emily mutter, and her heart breaks, that voice screaming at her once more than this is all her fault.

"I'm sorry," she says, because she feels like she should apologize for something – anything – and her gaze darts back up to meet Emily's and she flushes when she realizes that Emily's taken off her shirt, too, leaving her in just a bra and Alison has to force her eyes to stay focused on Emily's face, and not…anything _else_.

"What for this time?" There's bleak amusement in Emily's voice as she squints at her from across the room, and she cocks her head to one side and Alison feels like she's being studied like a rat in some sort of sick science experiment.

"Everything."

"Not good enough," Emily fires back immediately, and the resentment held in those three words has Alison flinching. "I used to think about it, you know." Alison doesn't know because she has no idea what Emily's talking about – her eyes are unfocused, mind clearly far away. "About whether if… if you were drunk, if you'd act differently towards me. If you'd kiss _me_, for once. I used to think that maybe then you'd finally be honest with me, and tell me how you felt – how fucked up is that? How _deluded _was I?"

She's rambling, words spilling from her lips quickly, but there's a raw pain in her words and Alison knows that no-one else in the world could ever hate her as much as she hates herself in that moment, when Emily's angry eyes meet hers.

"And then it finally happened. Noel Kahn's party, two weeks before you disappeared. You got smashed –" She remembers that night, remembers the barrage of texts that she'd gotten from A and she'd just needed to _forget_, just for a little while – "and I asked you. I asked you if you felt the same way about me as I did for you. And do you know what you did?"

Alison shakes her head, made mute by the look on Emily's face because she doesn't remember any of it, the whole night is just a blur to her – she remembers arriving at the party and she remembers her first couple of drinks but then that was it, until she woke up the next morning somehow, miraculously back in her own bed.

"You kissed me. And I thought that that was finally it, you know? That I was right, that it hadn't all just been… wishful thinking." The brunette's voice is soft and Alison is frozen before her, terrified to hear what she has to say next. "And then you pushed me away and you laughed in my face and you told me that you could never feel like that about a _girl_."

There's venom in Emily's voice but Alison knows that it's her speaking through Emily, knows that's how she would've said it, because she was Alison DiLaurentis and she didn't allow herself to _care _about anyone and god, she was a monster.

She still _is _a monster.

"I wrote you a letter, you know." The abrupt change of subject makes her head spin, still focused on that piece of her past that she doesn't remember, and Emily isn't looking at her anymore, is instead looking out of the window, a haunted expression on her face. "I wish you'd had a chance to read it," she sighs, and Alison is too scared to ask what it said.

(But she can guess).

"Hanna shouldn't have said what she did before." Alison doesn't know what to _do _with herself, doesn't know how to follow Emily's train of thoughts (doesn't know how to make any of this right, save to wish that she'd never been born). "That we'd be better off if you were dead."

"She was right to say that," Alison replies softly. "Sometimes I think it would've been better for everyone, too."

"Don't _ever _say that." Emily whirls back around to face her, and there's a ferocity to her words and a fierceness in her eyes that makes Alison's eyes widen. "Don't talk like that. Promise me."

"I…" She knows she can't promise that when it's a thought that she has a dozen times a day, and she's loathe to tell another lie. "How come you don't agree with her? After everything I've done. After what you just told me. _How _can you still care about me?"

"Because I'll always care about you." There's an intensity to Emily's gaze, and Alison realizes belatedly that she's strayed into the territory of 'things she'd wanted to ask but said she wouldn't because Emily was drunk and it wasn't fair'.

Fuck.

"Because no matter what you do, I'll _always _care about you. And because… because the moment they found your body…" Emily's breath hitches and she sounds like she's fighting back a sob and Alison had never wanted any of this. "It was… the worst moment of my life. But it almost… finding out that you were alive, seeing you again after all that time… it almost cancelled it out. But if you were really gone, if you were really dead, I… I don't know what I'd do."

"Well I'm not." Alison's throat feels tight, and she can feel the sting of tears behind her eyes and she doesn't know whether to scream or cry because Emily still loves her and she doesn't _deserve_ it. "I'm here."

"But for how long?" Emily demands, voice hard. "How long before you decide to leave again? You were ready to the other night before A stopped you. You were going to leave me all over again, even after…" Emily's voice breaks and tears leak from her eyes and Alison swears she feels her heart twist in her chest even though she knows it's not _possible_. "After you told me that I _mattered_."

"Of course you _matter_!" Frustration leaks into her words because she knows why Emily is like this, why Emily doesn't believe anything she says – it's because she's a liar and she tried so hard for so long to convince them both that she didn't feel anything for Emily and it's coming back to haunt her now. "Why do you think I couldn't say goodbye to you? It was because I knew that I couldn't. I couldn't stand to see the look in your eyes when I told you that I was leaving. I couldn't stand to see the disappointment. Or the pain."

"Or maybe you just never gave a shit so it was easy for you to just pack up and go. Again." Alison sighs, her eyes fluttering closed in defeat because she doesn't know what to _do _anymore and she's suddenly _exhausted_.

"I don't know what to say to you." She runs a frustrated hand through her hair and takes a deep breath, and when she finally opens her eyes Emily's watching her warily. "I don't know how to make you believe me."

"How about trying for a little honesty for once in your fucking life?" Alison winces at the anger in the brunette's tone, but all the fight's gone out of Emily – she looks weary, as tired as Alison feels, her shoulders hunched (and she's still not put on a damn shirt and Alison's a little proud of herself, for _not _checking her out because god, would it be easy to), and her eyes downcast.

"I'm _trying_." Her voice cracks with the force she puts behind it, because she _is_, she's trying to be better, not just for Emily but for the other girls, too, and for _herself_. Because there are days where she barely stand to look at herself in the mirror, and she wants to _change_. She wants to not be haunted by the memories of the things she's done (though some things, she's learned, are hard to forget). She wants to be able to look back at her life and actually feel _proud _of who she is, for once.

She'd give anything to feel pride instead of being sickened.

"I'm trying," she repeats, pleading, now, as blue eyes lock with brown. "Can that please be enough? Just… just for now?"

It takes Emily a long time to answer, and when she does she speaks haltingly, like she's not really sure what to say – not that Alison can blame her. "I guess we'll find out." And it's not really the answer that she'd wanted, but she supposes it's better than silence.

"Do you want me to go?" She doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to get sent away, but she'd hate to think that Emily might _want _her to leave but wouldn't be able to speak up to tell her that, and the last thing she wants is to feel like she's forcing the brunette into spending time with her.

"I…" Emily bites her lip, and Alison can see indecision warring in her eyes and she steels herself because she's sure that a rejection is coming. "I think that might be for the best." She fights to keep her expression carefully blank and just nods before spinning and heading for the door, because she thinks if she stays for much longer she might start to cry and she can't stand the thought of doing that in-front of Emily _again_.

"Alison?" The brunette's voice stops her when she's halfway out the door, and her hand curls around the doorframe so hard that her knuckles turn white as she takes a deep breath and turns her head. "I'm sorry. About you needing to take care of me tonight. And about the drinking."

"You don't need to apologize for that," she says, puzzled. "It's my fault, isn't it? That you're drinking? _I _should be apologizing to you."

"Why?" Emily looks confused, now, her eyebrows creasing into a frown. "You never put the bottle in my hand. _I _chose that, _I _did that, and I'm not your responsibility." The brunette bites her lip, looks like she's debating whether to say something else. "Have you ever thought that… instead of apologizing so much for the past, maybe you should start focusing on the present? On making sure that in the future, you don't have a million things to be sorry for?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I just want quickly to apologize for taking so long to update - I was on holiday for two weeks and didn't have the chance to post anything before I left. Hopefully it'll be a little quicker next time (though no promises!).**

* * *

She wakes up before her alarm the next morning, and just wants to roll over and _die _because _god _does she feel awful – her head pounds and when she opens her eyes she promptly shuts them again because the sunlight streaming in through the window is _too bright_ and _god _she really needs to stop drinking because the hangovers the next day are really _not _worth it anymore.

She glances at the clock on her bedside table and sees that she still has another hour or so before she even needs to _think _about getting up and ready for school, curls up on her side and realizes belatedly that there's only a thin blanket covering her body, and she'd slept in just her jeans and a bra and god, what sort of state had she been _in _last night?

She tries to think back, but comes up short, and how had she even gotten _home_, anyway?

She recalls going back to Hanna's after school finished, and the blonde suggesting that they go to the park because it was a nice day, but… the rest is a hazy blur. She frowns as she draws the blanket up over her head to drown out the sunlight, rolling onto her stomach and trying to cast her mind back… and pales when she remembers one tiny detail from the night before.

Alison had been with her.

Fuck.

She can't remember much – has the vague image of Alison being with her downstairs, of her clutching at the blonde's jacket and begging her not to leave (could drunk her _be _any more pathetic? Is it possible that she's made Alison think any less of her than she already does?), and then… not much.

Not much aside from the memory of Alison on her knees in-front of her, of kissing Alison until her mind had gone blank, her hands twisted in blonde hair and Alison's hands on her thighs and what had she been _thinking_?

(Cleary she hadn't been, though a part of her wishes that the memory wasn't so hazy because there isn't a single kiss she's shared with Alison that she doesn't remember in perfect clarity.)

She can't recall much else, though she's pretty sure there'd been an argument at some point (because isn't that all they seem to do, nowadays? Sometimes she misses the way they'd used to be, when she'd been too scared to point out how Alison hurt her, because at least then they weren't fighting all the time and it was _easier_, but she also knows that if anything ever _is _going to happen between them then they need to get past all of this, that they _need _to have it out if they're ever going to _get _anywhere, but that doesn't mean that it's not _hard_), and she remembers telling Alison to leave, but that's… it.

And she wishes it wasn't, wishes she knew _exactly _what she'd said to the blonde, because she dreads to think what sorts of things she would've said under the influence… but she knows that the only way she's ever going to find out is to ask Alison herself and _that's _not going to happen anytime soon.

She's too terrified that she might've said something mortifying, like admitting how often she thought about the blonde ever since they'd kissed in Alison's room, or something equally bad, and it would also mean having to _face _Alison _sober_, and she's not entirely sure that she's ready for that, yet.

She'd gotten so drunk yesterday because of Noel (who is fast becoming number one on her most-hated list, after A, because he'd been the start of all of this (and the reasonable part of her knows that she and Alison have a lot more issues than just that, that this had been building for _years_, but rationality has never been her strong point, when it comes to Alison), and she hates him for using Alison (to get to _her_, she hates that part most of all), can still see the smirk on his face when he'd told her and Spencer about those stupid photos), and the things he'd said to her in his car.

He'd said that Alison was 'sweet on her' and she didn't know what to _think _about that, because did that mean Alison had confided in him, about her? That she found it easier to talk to _Noel_ about Emily and what was going on between them, than Emily herself?

Or was Noel just messing with her?

She'd just needed to stop thinking about it, and Hanna had been there with a bottle to help her try, and she's pretty sure that she'd had more to drink last night than on any of the others, hence the sick feeling in her stomach and the pounding of her head, and the fact that she can barely even remember how she'd gotten herself home last night.

God, had her _Mom _seen her?

She hopes not, but she's pretty sure that the blanket came courtesy of her, and not Alison, and that's… not good. She'd spent so much time at Hanna's not just because the blonde always seemed to have a steady supply of alcohol – it was also so her Mom didn't have to see the state she got herself into, because she knew she'd worry.

She'd hated the look on her face, the times where Emily had lost herself in the bottom of a bottle before, after Alison's disappearance and after Maya's death, but it hadn't been enough to stop her – she'd just shut her out, instead.

And she didn't want to see that look again, even though she's pretty sure she's going to. But she thinks that she's had enough to drink by now that she could happily go the rest of her life without touching another – she supposes, though, that it's easier to promise that in the cold light of day when she's alone, rather than when she's looking at Alison and remembering all the pain and the heartbreak (she thinks that she needs some new memories of the blonde, that aren't tainted with lies and betrayal, wonders if she'll ever get the chance to make any), and how hopelessly in love with her she still is.

She's going to try, though – she hates the fact that pretty much all of the previous night is hazy, doesn't ever want to feel like this again. It reminds her too much of the night A had drugged her, when she'd come to with a shovel in her hand surrounded by the dirt that she'd dug up out of Alison's grave, and it's not a feeling that she ever wants to have again.

By the time her alarm goes off she doesn't feel any better – when she shifts to shut it off her stomach lurches and for several horrible seconds she thinks she might throw up, and even when it passes she still feels like shit and pain lances through her head every time she blinks and yeah, she's never touching alcohol again.

There's a light knock on her bedroom door few seconds later, and Emily has to steel herself because she's about to see if her Mom knew how drunk she'd been last night, and if she _hadn't _then she also has to act like she doesn't have the worst hangover she's had in a long time and she's not sure that any of it was actually _worth _it (because she still sees Alison's face, even when she's had so much that she can barely even think straight). "Emily?"

"Come in," she calls back, wincing when her voice comes out hoarse, and she can still taste the faintest hint of vodka on her tongue and it makes her feel ill. Her Mom's head pops around the door, a concerned look on her face, and Emily sighs because she _knows_.

Fuck.

"I don't want you going to school today." She steps into the room and makes her way over the side of Emily's bed, perching on the edge of it and worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. "Okay?"

"But... Why? I'm fine." It's a lie, though, and they both know it – she can barely keep her eyes open, with how bright it is in the room, and when she pushes herself upright so that she's sitting with her back against the headboard she grimaces as her stomach lurches once again.

"You're hungover." She sounds so _disappointed_ and Emily feels sick. "Aren't you?" Emily doesn't answer, but she knows she doesn't need to. "There's no way you couldn't be, with how bad you were last night."

"I'm sorry," is all she can think of to say, feeling very small under the heavy weight of her Mom's gaze. She accepts the packet of aspirin that she hands to her wordlessly, taking the water bottle too and popping two of the pills into her mouth, praying that they'll make her feel a little better (and knowing she doesn't really deserve it if they do, because she'd done this to herself).

"Ella Montgomery called me yesterday evening. She said that you were acting like you had a hangover in all of your classes, and do you know what I did?" Her Mom carries on, as though Emily hasn't spoken, worry still present in her eyes, and the brunette can only shake her head and feel a prickle of shame at the back of her neck. "I laughed. I wrote it off, said you must just have been having a bad day, because you're my daughter, and I'd know, wouldn't I? If you were getting yourself wasted on a school night?"

"I… I'm _sorry_," she says again, because she doesn't know what else she _can _say, and her Mom doesn't deserve this – she hates the fact that she's made her worry, that she's _disappointed_ her. "I didn't… I wasn't thinking. But it won't happen again, Mom, I swear. I'm… I'm done with it."

"Are you?" She's looking at Emily carefully, with shrewd eyes, and she wonders just how much her Mom can guess about why she's doing this in the first place.

"Yes," she replies, without hesitation, because she _never _wants to have a conversation like this ever again.

"So whatever it is that you're going through, whatever's plaguing you… That's just… gone away, now?"

"I… It's complicated." She thinks that that's the biggest understatement of the century, because the mess that her life has become is so tangled that even _she _wouldn't even know where to start with trying to sort it out. "It's not… gone away. But I know that drinking isn't the answer to it. I know that hiding from it and trying to forget about it _by _drinking isn't going to solve anything. I'm working on it."

"You said the same thing about Alison…" She trails off, looks like she wants to say more but not sure if she should, and Emily feels the first stirrings of worry, wonders if she'd said something to her Mom about the blonde last night. "It's… does this have to do with her? With how you feel about her?"

"Like I said, it's complicated," she answers eventually, her voice quiet, and she has to look away from her mother's searching gaze, focusing instead on her hands, where she's winding a strand of wool from the blanket around one of her fingers.

"Do you… do you need to talk to someone? I know that Dr Sullivan – "

"I don't need a therapist, Mom." Though the more she thinks about, the more she thinks that maybe she does – but she can't exactly be _honest _with them about anything, and that's the only way it'd ever be able to help her.

God, when had her life gotten so fucked up?

"It'd be okay if you did," her Mom says softly. "After all you've been through… no-one would judge you for it."

"I'm fine, Mom."

"You're not," she replies, shaking her head, worry still present in her eyes. "I know I haven't always been… there for you, when you needed me, Emily, but I still… You know you can talk to me, right? About anything? About… about girls?"

"I… yeah. I know." She frowns, then, more sure than ever that she'd said something she shouldn't have the previous night. "Where's this coming from?" She decides to just ask, because otherwise it'll eat away at her.

"It's just… you've been different, ever since Alison came back. I already told you that I thought you might have thought of her as more than a friend before, but I never really… thought about how difficult it must have been for you. To lose her and then find out that she wasn't really gone. And about how hard it must be now that she's back. And I just want you to know that if you need to talk about it, then I'm here."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," she murmurs softly, because _that's _the truth, at least. "But I know that I can come to you about it if I need to." She raises her eyes from her hands, flashes her Mom a grateful smile (because it's amazing, really, to think about how against the idea of her and Maya she'd been and to see her go to this, being so supportive, and sometimes Emily marvels at how far they're come), and she's surprised when her Mom reaches for her and pulls her into a hug.

"I love you, sweetheart." She squeezes Emily gently and the brunette just smiles, resting her head on her Mom's shoulder, finding comfort in the embrace.

"I love you too, Mom. And thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything. You could've freaked out and yelled at me for coming home like I did last night. Most Mom's probably would have."

"And if I thought you were just doing it for the fun of it then I would have." She sighs softly, squeezing Emily's shoulders once more. "But I knew it was more than that, and that yelling at you would only make things worse. I want you to promise me something, though."

"What?"

"The next time you get yourself into such a state – and I know you said you're not going to again," she cuts Emily off when she opens her mouth to protest, "but in-case you do, then _call _me. I don't care where you are, I don't care what time it is, or who you're with, just _call _me, okay? So I don't have to worry about one of your other friends getting you home safely."

"I will," she promises, sitting up and frowning as she realizes something. "How _did _I get home last night?"

"You don't remember?" Her Mom's eyes fall on her and she can only shake her head, trying to fight through the jumbled haze that is her memories of the night before, but she comes up short. "Alison brought you back. Said she found you in the park." Well, at least that explains why the blonde had been in her bedroom last night – though not how she'd found her in the first place.

God, she hoped she hadn't drunk-dialled her. _That _would be embarrassing.

x-x-x

She stays in bed for most of the day, managing to grab a few more hours sleep after her Mom leaves for work. She wakes up in the early afternoon, but it's only when her headache begins to ebb away that she actually drags herself out of bed, deciding that this day can only be improved with coffee – but when she heads down to the kitchen it's only to discover that they've run out.

She briefly debates just going back to bed and feeling sorry for herself some more, before shaking the thought away, dragging on some clothes and heading out the front door, thinking she'd try out one of the other coffee shops in Rosewood beside the two she's already tried ever since she'd been fired from The Brew.

It's nice out, despite the chill in the air, and it helps to clear her mind, and she feels better by the time she reaches the middle of town, and then it's a matter of choosing where to go – the place she decides on is new, and she orders a coffee to go and walks down the street with it warming her hands.

It's not the _worst _coffee she's ever tasted, but it's not the best, either – she feels a brief pang of longing for the machine at The Brew, which made the _best _cappuccinos that she's ever tasted, but then she thinks of Zach, trying to take advantage of Hanna, and it quickly goes away.

She'll take the shitty coffee over anything to do with him, any day.

"Emily!" She pauses when she hears her name called, and when she turns around she's not sure whether she's happy or disappointed to see Paige a few steps behind her. "Hey."

"Hey." It's still a little awkward between them, despite their attempt to keep things friendly – it's not so bad with Sydney there as a buffer, but without it feels… strange. And Emily regrets the way they'd ended things – because of Alison, everything always leads back to Alison – but she doesn't entirely know if she also regrets the break-up itself (her head hurts, whenever she tries to figure out her feelings - for Paige or Alison). "How are you? After the whole… rat fiasco."

"I'm okay," she shrugs. "I missed you at school today."

"Yeah, I uh, wasn't well."

"But still well enough for coffee?" Paige teases, and Emily smiles softly, wondering if she'd be happier if they'd never broken up – but then she thinks of Alison, and knows that she would have never been able to live with it if she'd never at least _tried _to find out if the blonde ever had feelings for her.

"If I'm ever too ill for coffee, just start planning my funeral," she jokes back. "How was swim practice?"

"It was okay," she shrugs, "Sydney's coming along great, though. She'll be beating me soon."

"Not possible," Emily says with a small smile, shaking her head. "You'll always be the number one, you know that."

"I wouldn't be if you were still on the team."

"Well… I'm not, so," Emily shrugs, like it's no big deal – even though it is, even though every time she's in the locker room talking to Sydney or one of the other girls, or helping out with training in the pool, it sends a pang of longing through her so sharply that she wants to stagger under the weight of it.

Swimming had been her salvation, after Alison – the one and only thing that helped her keep her mind clear, because when she was in the pool, racing through the water with the only goal in her mind to _win_, nothing else had mattered.

There was just her, her mind blissfully blank, focused only on her breathing, pushing herself to go faster and faster, to the limit, until she could barely breathe and every muscle in her body was screaming at her stop – but now she can't do it anymore.

She'd tried, in the beginning, despite her doctor warning her not to. She'd slid into the pool three days after getting out of hospital, tried to swim and cried when all she'd succeeded in doing was putting herself in agony every time she tried to move her shoulder.

She'd thought it might have gotten better, with time, and though now she can swim fairly normally, she's nowhere near where she used to be, can barely even go faster than a beginner, and it… _hurts_, to know that she can no longer compete in the thing that she loves.

(It hurts, too, to know that A has ruined her chances of getting into a good college on a scholarship, and she'd cried about that for a long time, too).

"I'm sorry," Paige says softly, her eyes sympathetic as they meet Emily's, and she reaches for Emily's arm and squeezes. "I didn't mean to…" She trails off, and Emily remembers the day that Paige had found her in the pool once, tears still drying on her cheeks because she couldn't _do _it anymore, and she'd slipped into the water with her and wrapped an arm around her back and whispered that there was more to life than swimming and if she kept trying to push it she'd just end up worse off, in the end.

She thinks of the concern in Paige's eyes when she'd told her that even if she could never swim again, that it would be _okay_, and she can't help but wonder what Alison would've said, if she'd been the one to find her, instead.

And she hates that she even thinks about comparing the two, because she knows that they couldn't be any more different. But she can't _help _it because her relationship with Paige is flashing before her eyes, and it was _good _and _easy _and… _genuine_, and a part of her feels like an idiot for giving that up, over Alison.

But then she thinks of Alison, of the way that she's drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, despite everything they've been through. Still, she's drawn to her, even though she thinks her heart is still broken, and she remembers the feeling of kissing her, the hot press of the blonde's mouth against her own, and thinks that, regardless of how she feels about it now, she'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Because Alison still holds her heart, and maybe she always will.

"I miss you, Em." Paige's voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and when her eyes find the brunette she sees that she's standing a step or two closer than before, and she swallows, wonders if Paige is going to try anything and dreading if she does because she doesn't know what she'll do.

"I miss you, too," she replies because she means it – what they'd had had been _good_, up until the end, despite their uneasy beginning, and going from that to barely seeing Paige has been _hard_, and if she hadn't been so busy with A and Alison she wonders if she'd have had time to feel heartbroken over what she's lost.

(Because she doesn't feel it, not really – she's filled with regret, from the way it ended, but… there's no ache in her chest, there's been no desire to reconcile, at least not romantically, not like… not like she feels about Alison, and they hadn't even ever been _together _and god she really _is _pathetic and really, Paige deserves better than her, someone still hung up on the ghost of a girl she used to know, she deserves someone that loves only _her_, is not haunted by their past, and for a startling second she wonders if she's almost as cruel to Paige as Alison is to her).

"I really, _really_ miss you…" She's too caught up in her own thoughts to realize what's happening, and when she _does _realize it's too late to _do _anything – Paige takes a deliberate step forward and catches her wrist, leans closer and brushes their lips together.

And it's barely even a kiss, because a second later she's stepping away, shy smile on her face, and Emily is frozen, because she doesn't know how to _react _to that – because all she can think about is the way that Alison has her breath hitching and her heart racing, whereas that kiss had just made her feel… empty.

And she hates that, because a part of her thinks that she'd be better off with Paige, instead of chasing after Alison like a little lost puppy (that's what she'd used to feel like, before she'd disappeared, and she feels like she's back to that, now), but…

Alison is a flame in the darkness, burning bright and true and strong, setting everything that she touches aflame, and she's _dangerous _and addictive and everything Emily knows she shouldn't want but everything that she craves with every fibre of her being.

And Paige is… a spark. Strong at first, but eventually fizzling out until there's nothing left but smoke in the air.

"Paige, I…" She doesn't know what to _say_, but there's a look in the other woman's eyes that tells her that she already knows far more than Emily had ever wanted her to.

"You can't," she supplies, in a sad voice that makes Emily hate herself, just a little bit, for hurting her – but she knows the pain would be far worse, if she tried something with her again but without her heart truly being in it. "I get it. I already… I already guessed, but… I wanted to be sure. It's okay."

Emily thinks that it isn't, swears that she sees tears in Paige's eyes before they're blinked away, and her throat feels tight. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be," she says, waving a hand, but her voice cracks a little and Emily feels _awful._ "I, uh, should get going. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Paige." Emily stands in the street, watching her go and clutching her coffee in her hands, praying that she hasn't just made a huge mistake…


	6. Chapter 6

At the weekend Alison manages to convince her Dad to take her down to the stables (after many hours of pleading), and he drops her off in the morning and promises to return for her in a few hours – it's the same place that her Mom had brought her to ever since she'd started to ride when she was six, and she feels a pang of nostalgia as she stares around the place after he's driven away.

She hadn't had the best relationship with her Mom when she'd been growing up (and _that _was an understatement), but some of her best memories had been of coming down to the stables every Saturday, of trotting through the woods with her Mom at her side, and everything else just… hadn't seemed to _matter_, when they were out in an open field, wind whipping at their faces.

The same guy, Stephen, still runs the place, and he waves her over as he comes out of the office. "Hey, Alison. Long time no see." There's a sympathy in his gaze that she knows she doesn't deserve, and she just smiles tightly and prays that he won't ask for any details about her stupid fabricated story.

(She knows that Aria had been acting in their best interests, when she'd stopped Shana up on that stage, but god, things would've been so much easier if she'd never touched her, because with Shana dead and a trail of breadcrumbs leading the police to New York, she knows it's just a matter of time before they connect the dots and place the five of them in that theatre, and she'd been _trying _to protect them from that, by lying, and instead it's all just… blown up in her face).

"Yeah. I haven't had much time for riding, lately."

"Excited to get back to it?"

"Can't wait." She smiles, a genuine smile (and it's the first one of those she's had in a while), and Stephen grins and nods his head, indicating that she should follow him around to where the horses are kept.

"When you called, I didn't really know what you'd be up for doing today," he says as he leads her towards one of the many stables dotted around the yard, and when he stops in-front of the door Alison pokes her head inside to see a pair of dark eyes watching her from the back, the horses' ears pricked forward in curiosity. "But if you want a challenge…"

Stephen had used to tell her that she was one of the best riders he had ever come across – she hadn't entirely believed him, had thought that he was just being nice to her (she was pretty sure he had a crush on her Mom), but there hadn't been a single horse on the yard that she hadn't been able to tame, by the time she'd gone missing and been forced to stop.

"Why not?"

"That's what I like to hear," he says, grin widening as he clicks his tongue, encouraging the horse within to approach the door. "This is Cola." Alison extends a hand towards the horse as his nose appears over the edge of the door, making a face when he licks her palm. "We got him about… three months ago. Ex-racehorse. Bit of a handful."

"Alright," Alison replies, patting Cola on the neck gently, and she's already starting to feel a little better after the awful week she's had – it had used to be the highlight of her week, coming down here, the only place where she felt she could get away from her problems, if only for a little while, and that was the main reason why she'd been so insistent on coming down here today.

She could use a little peace from her churning thoughts, because her mind hasn't shut up ever since she'd left Emily's bedroom on Thursday night (and she hasn't seen the brunette since – she hadn't been in school yesterday and Alison hadn't dared to ask any of the others why), and she just needs it to _stop_.

"If you could tire him out, that would be great." She laughs but nods, accepting the challenge – and besides, if she's got her work cut out for her, she'll be concentrating on _that _rather than anything else and that is more than fine by her. "I'll just give you a quick tour, 'cause a couple things have changed since you were last here."

He shows her around the place before leading her back to Cola's stable where he leaves her to it, telling her to come find him if she needs anything, and she assures him she will before grabbing a set of brushes and setting about grooming Cola before she takes him out for a spin.

The monotony of stroking the brush over his fur is relaxing, and she hadn't realized how much she'd _missed _this until now, surrounded by the memories of a childhood that's long lost to her now, but she tries not to dwell on the pang of loss that it leaves in her chest, instead forces herself to remember the happy times she's had with her mother here (because it's the only way she can erase the image of seeing her body dug up from that shallow grave in Spencer's yard, and thinking about that makes her _sick _so she tries not to).

When her phone chimes with a text as she's getting ready to tack Cola up, she pauses, fishing her phone out of her pocket, assuming that it's her Dad – and she freezes when she realizes that it's from a blocked number, her heart starting to race in her chest, her palms feeling clammy, and she _hates _that someone has so much power over her, that seeing an unknown number flash across the screen of her phone fills her with dread.

She _hates _A for reducing her to this.

Her hands shake as she open the text, and she nearly drops her phone as she sees that there's an image within, and her breath rushes out of her lungs in a choked gasp, because there, on her phone screen, is a picture of Paige and Emily kissing in the street, and Alison wishes she could tell herself that it was taken a while ago, when they were still together, but she knows with a certainty in her heart that it's not, that it's recent and _god_, she feels like she's been stabbed in the chest and she _shouldn't _because she has no _right _to Emily, but god, it hurts, it aches, and she's about to switch the damn phone off and shove it away when she catches sight of the words at the bottom of the message:

_Payback's a bitch, isn't it? At least now you're even. –A. _

Her hands shake with anger, then, rippling through her until she sees red, and she wants to smash her phone into a million tiny pieces, even though she knows that won't help anything – that photo will still haunt her (when she blinks, she can see the imprint of Paige's lips on Emily's behind her eyelids), and A will still be after her.

Cola's soft snort breaks her out of the murderous rage she finds herself in (and she's not sure who she's more mad at – A for sending this to her, for knowing how she feels about Emily (and that's a terrifying thought, because what if they try to use that? What if they try to use Emily against her? Because she's weak, when it comes to Emily, and if anything happened to her because of Alison… god, she doesn't know what she'd do), or Paige, for being able to do what she so desperately wants to, and she knows she doesn't have a _right _to be mad at Paige, but then again, she's never been very rational), and she jumps at the noise, startled – he turns to stare at her and she rests a hand on his neck, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and when he nuzzles her side gently she feels a little better.

It gnaws at her, though, as she's tacking Cola up – does this mean that they're back together? She knows that it probably does, but she needs to _know_. And she knows that it's probably a bad idea to call Emily _to _ask her, but… it'll drive her crazy if she doesn't, and hey, what's one more bad decision to someone like her, anyway?

But the brunette doesn't answer, and she's left even more frustrated than before, so she settles for firing off a quick text, instead, even as her mind's screaming at her that she _shouldn't_, but her fingers move over the screen of her phone before she can stop them.

_I know I have no right to ask you for honesty, after everything, but I have to at least ask, even if you never answer… Is there still something between you and Paige? _

Once it sends she tries to push A's message out of her head, instead forces herself to focus on Cola as she leads him out of his stable and mounts up, smiling softly at how easily everything's coming back to her – she slides her feet into the stirrups and runs the reins through her fingers before nudging the horse onwards.

The trails around the stables haven't changed much since she'd last been here, and she takes her favourite one, which winds through the woods before opening onto several large fields, perfect for galloping across, and it's _nice_, to get back to this, to feel the wind on her skin and the sounds of the woods around her, the rocking movement of Cola beneath her comforting in a way that nothing else could ever be.

There's still the gnaw of worry, that she might have lost her chance with Emily before she'd ever truly had it in her grasp (and really, has she _ever _had a chance, since she'd come back? Had she ever had a chance, full stop? She wonders how different things would have been, had she not been a coward when they were younger, but she can't help but feel that Emily would have turned her back on her, in the end, anyway, once she'd truly realized the type of person Alison was – because she knows now, and Emily's nowhere to be seen), that Paige has swooped back in and run away with her.

And she knows it's probably selfish, that Paige can probably give Emily everything she needs without hurting her, like Alison does. But she can't stand the thought of them together – it feels like a physical ache in her chest, and she doesn't know how she could bear it, if they got back together.

It's a relief when she sees the line of trees thinning out in-front of them, and when they break onto the open grassy fields beyond she gives Cola his head and lets him run, losing herself in the feeling of racing over the ground, and the exhilaration of it all is almost, _almost _enough to push thoughts of Emily out of her head.

Almost, but not quite enough.

And she _hates _the fact that the brunette is always on her mind because it's _torture_. And really, she should be used to it by now. It had always used to be Emily that she'd longed for, in the past, whenever some random guy had his hands all over her – she'd wished that they had been smaller, softer, and Emily always touched her (whenever she built up the courage), with reverence, as though Alison was the most precious thing in the world, when all the boys she'd ever kissed had touched her like it was their right, like they were _entitled _to.

But she'd been too _stupid _and too _scared _and too _young _to even be able to admit that to herself (it had always, always been there in the back of her mind but she'd never voiced the words aloud, never let herself be open about what she wanted because she _couldn't_), and it's been _years _since she first came to the realization that Emily Fields was the only person that she'd ever truly wanted and she still can't even _tell _her that, and every time she's ever felt like trying the words stick in her throat, and she doesn't know how to tell Emily, how to _show _her, the depth of what she feels, and she doesn't _deserve _her, doesn't deserve someone so good when she's so twisted, but she thinks of that photo, of Emily kissing Paige, and her heart clenches in her chest because she's selfish enough to think that, even if she doesn't deserve Emily, then no-one else should be able to be with her, either.

It doesn't take her long to realize that, whereas once losing herself racing across an open field would have wiped her mind clear of all her worries, when it came to Emily it just wasn't enough. Because Emily has always been her exception, to everything – Emily's the one she fell for, despite the fact that she'd told herself a dozen times over that she wasn't meant for love, would never have it within her grasp; Emily's the only one she can let her walls down around, the only one who she's allowed to see her when she's upset of vulnerable; and she's the only one who'd brought her out of hiding without so much as a second thought of her own safety.

She still remembers that day in the barn like it was yesterday, the one that she's been thinking of so often lately, her go-to to try and show Emily how much she meant to her, because that was the day she truly let her walls down, let everything go…

_She's been scared before. _

_She's felt terror before – pure, unadulterated terror, the type that leaves you trembling and shaky, so much so that you doubt your ability to stand on weak knees; that leaves your heart thundering in your chest, finding it hard to breathe. _

_But nothing, nothing that she's ever been through, that she's ever felt before, compare to what she feels when she reaches that barn, knowing that Emily is inside, but not knowing if she's been quick enough to save her. _

_That is the kind of fear that could bring someone to their knees, and Alison would buckle under it if not for the fact that she might not be too late – that Emily might still be alive, might still be breathing, and the hope of that is enough to win out over the dizzyingly terrifying thought that she might not be. _

_Her hands shake as she undoes the deadbolt locking the brunette inside, and she raises her arm to cover her nose as she opens the doors, coughing as she's assaulted by the carbon monoxide that's made the interior of the barn hazy with smoke, and her eyes start to water, so badly that it takes her a few seconds to identify Emily's body – and she goes cold all over when she sees her, sprawled across the floor, and she's moving before she even thinks about, flinging herself to the floor beside the brunette._

_She's still alive, and Alison's never been one for it but she sends up a quick prayer anyway because this is nothing short of a miracle, the fact that Emily's chest still rises and falls with her breaths, that her skin is still warm to the touch, but when Alison's fingers close around her wrist and check for a pulse it's weak, and panic starts to flood through her once more. _

_She's not strong enough to lift her, not with the gas still in the air, permeating her lungs, so she settles for hooking her arms under Emily's shoulders and dragging her out into the air, not stopping until she can't carry on anymore, when they're a few safe feet away from the barn entrance, and it's there that she collapses to the floor. _

_Emily's face is pale in the weak sunlight that filters around them and Alison's heart is seized by panic, and she wants to call for help but she knows that she can't be here if she does and she can't bear the thought of leaving her. _

_She settles Emily's head in her lap and just fixes her gaze on the brunette's chest because she's scared that if she looks away that she'll stop breathing, and Alison can deal with leaving her behind, because she knows she's still there, she's still alive, but the thought of Emily dead and gone because of her is… it sickens her. _

_Because she never wanted this. She'd never wanted to lie and to leave her life behind, to have the people that she loved think that she was dead. But she'd thought that it was best (and god, how wrong she was, because A had moved from Alison onto her, and she can't do anything about it because she's still selfish, she's still a coward, and the thought of what A might do to her if she ever goes back to Rosewood makes her shudder). _

_And none of them deserve it, but Emily the least of all. And not just from A – from Alison, as well. And as her hands stroke gently through the brunette's hair, twisting the strands around her fingers as she looks down at her and tries to remember every single detail of her face (and she thought she had, but seeing her here, in the flesh (because she's slipped up a few times, gone back home disguised, and seen her around, and each and every time she does it takes her breath away because Emily was always beautiful but she's even more so now, so much so that it makes Alison's chest ache), but her memories pale compared to the reality, to seeing her so close, to be able to touch her like she'd never allowed herself to out of fear), she thinks of how she'd treated the girl she's cradling in her arms and she feels a rush of self-hatred that she's mostly managed to repress. _

_(Mostly, because she slips up sometimes – she's tried to forget the past but it haunts her, waking and sleeping and god, the dreams are the worst of them all, to see Emily when she closes her eyes, to kiss her, to be with her like Alison knew she never would be, and then to wake up and know that none of it was real, that she's still curled up alone under a ratty blanket in an abandoned warehouse, that's… torture and she only has herself to blame). _

_A part of her wishes that she'd gone further away, gotten rid of the temptation to go home again. Because it hurts, to see them all without her (happy and without her, and she wonders, on her darkest days, if she'd done the four of them more harm than good), and Emily… Emily is happy and with someone else and it's… she knows that the brunette deserves it, deserves the world and more, and Alison could never have given that, but she'd still… god, she still cared about her, maybe in another world, where she knew how to, could have loved her, and it's… it's hard to know that the brunette has moved on, because Alison doesn't think that she'll ever be able to. _

_When she feels Emily stir her heart sings, because it means she's okay – and then plummets, because it also means that she'll have to leave. If she weren't so selfish she would go now, before the brunette's eyes open, because it will hurt her less, in the end._

_But she is selfish, and she finds that she can't move, wants desperately to catch a glimpse of those brown eyes that she loves so much, tells herself that Emily will write this off as a near-death-experience hallucination later, and holds her breath as she waits for her to wake up. _

And when Emily _had _woken up, she couldn't help but kiss her. She'd allowed herself just a brief second, to touch their lips together, a memory to keep her warm at night because she'd already forgotten so much (even though she desperately tried to keep a hold of her memories, replaying important moments of her life in her head every night before she went to sleep, hoping that she'd get to re-live them in her dreams), and the feeling of Emily's lips against hers was something that she wanted to keep with her for the rest of her life.

But she'd had to leave, all over again – although she'd been serious, about taking Emily with her. It had been a moment of madness, to even _ask _that, but… she was in love and she _missed _her and seeing her again, _touching_ her again after so long, it was… everything she'd never thought she'd have a chance to do ever again.

It had flashed before her, a life where Emily ran away with her. They wouldn't be confined to the area just around Rosewood, either – she'd stuck so close for all of the girls, but for Emily the most. With the brunette at her side she could face the world. They could've gone to Paris, lived their life in the city that had come to mean so much to the both of them, to the idea of the relationship that they may never get the chance to have, could have gotten married, eventually, with the Eiffel Tower looming in the background.

But that was just a fantasy.

One that she longed for with every cell, every nerve and every fibre of her body, that was true, but a fantasy all the same. Emily would never leave with her, couldn't leave her friends and her family behind – she wasn't like Alison, couldn't cut ties so easily, and that's one of the reasons why she loves her.

When she feels Cola start to tire she turns him through a wide circle and heads back the way they came, and she doesn't feel any better than when they'd left but she doesn't feel much worse, either. And Emily still hasn't replied and she doesn't know what that _means _and Emily Fields is going to be the death of her or will drive her insane – whichever comes first.

And she knows that, if Paige and Emily are back together, then she has no-one to blame for that other than herself. It's her dishonesty, her complete inability to be open about her feelings, that have led them to this – and yet she knows with a certainty in her heart that, if she could go back in time, she'd probably let things play out exactly the same way because she's still so _scared_.

Scared of how much Emily means to her, scared of _having _her, in her arms once again only to lose her (and a part of her thinks that that is inevitable, because she's Alison DiLaurentis and she's not meant for _good _things), because she's sure that will break her. She can barely stand the pain now, after all they'd shared were a handful of kisses – how would she be able to cope with a break up?

But, she wonders as she and Cola emerge through the last of the trees and the sound of his hooves on the ground changes as they reach the concrete of the yard, is fear a good enough reason for her to hold herself back? Is it worth denying herself what she really, truly wants?

Since she was fifteen years old she's lived her life in the shadow of fear (and perhaps even early than that – there were times, with her Mom, that she'd been terrified of what she might do, and once she'd gotten a bloodied face for her insubordination and found herself hiding at Spencer's instead of facing her again), and she's _tired_. Tired of looking over her shoulder, of jumping at every sound, of being terrified every time she receives a text from an unknown number.

She's so, so tired, and so, so _sick_ of it all and she hates what her life has become, barely recognizes herself when she looks in the mirror, anymore. And she wants to change, wants it with a desperation like she's never known, but she doesn't know _how_. Doesn't know how to let go, to _stop _being scared because it's all she's ever known for so long.

Her phone rings after she's pulled Cola to a stop outside of his stable, dismounted and untacked him before feeding him some mints she'd hidden in her pocket – and she nearly drops it with shock when she sees that it's Emily calling her.

She'd never expected the brunette to reply, not really, and now that she _is _she doesn't know what to do. She'd wanted to know what that kiss had meant, before, but now she's not so sure she wants to know the answer.

But she picks up anyway, pressing the phone to her ear as she slips out of the stable, and she's barely even gotten a hello out of her mouth before Emily is speaking, her voice rough and anger dripping from every word, and Alison wonders how pathetic she is, to smile at the sound of the brunette's voice, even when she's so, so mad at her.

"_What fucking right do you even have to ask me that, Alison?" _

"I don't," she replies simply, shrugging even though she knows Emily can't see her as she heaves out a sigh. "I know I don't."

"_Then why _did _you?" _Emily's voice is almost pleading, and Alison would give anything to know what she's thinking and god, she's _missed _her even though it's only been two days and _when _had she fallen so in love with this woman?

(She knows, though – even though she hadn't _realized _what it was until she'd left Rosewood for what she thought was for good, she'd fallen for Emily long before that.)

"Because I…" She doesn't even have a good reason, all her reasons are selfish (they usually are, but _especially _so when it comes to Emily, always have been). "Because I wanted to know."

"_But _why_?" _Emily's voice breaks, and Alison shakes her head, and even though she knows why Emily is so reluctant to believe that Alison doesn't care for her in the way she wants (she knows why – it's in the months of rejection, of stringing her along for the sake of it (even though that wasn't what it had been, not truly, but that's what she'd wanted to believe so she'd let Emily think it, too), of pretending that Emily was nothing to her other than something for her to play with when she bored), she's still so _dense_, sometimes.

It reminds her of the girl she'd left behind – sweet and innocent and untouched by the darkness that's always hovering around the edges of her, these days – and it makes her smile even as she aches to have that girl back (to have the version of herself that she'd been before she'd left, because even though she's grown in some respects she'd give everything to be so _young _and _carefree _again), because maybe if they could both go back to that she could make everything _right _between them.

But she can't erase the past, and Emily had told her as much the other night, whether she'd _meant _to or not, and the brunette's words had haunted her ever since. But she knows she can't fix the present without at least _trying _to make amends for what she's done… and they can't have a future without either.

"Because I wanted to know if I'd finally lost whatever slim chance I had with you," she answers Emily, eventually, tearing herself out of her thoughts as she leans her shoulder against the brick of the office wall, tilting her head back and looking up into the sky and wondering absently if it's going to rain.

"_If you think you'd ever lose that then you're more delusional than I thought." _Emily's voice is quiet, and Alison can't read the emotion behind her words.

"I don't know," she says, her own voice just as soft. "I've done some pretty fucked up stuff. I wouldn't blame you for walking away. No-one would."

"_I could never walk away from you." _Alison's eyes flutter closed as she feels tears forming, but she refuses to let them fall. _"Even if I wish I could." _

"I'm sorry."

"_You keep saying that." _

"Because I _am_." Her voice breaks, and for a long time Emily doesn't answer her – she stands and she listens to the rhythmic sound of the brunette's breathing and wonders if they're on the cusp of something new, or if she's going to be left disappointed all over again.

"_I… I know." _When Emily finally speaks her voice is steady, and Alison's eyes fly open because she's spent so long apologizing for all her past mistakes but being told that she can't _fix _anything by saying it that she's taken aback by the fact that Emily's actually _accepting _it. _"That doesn't make it okay," _the brunette points out quickly. _"But I know you are. And I know that being stubborn about it isn't going to get us anywhere. So you can stop saying sorry now, okay?"_

"But –"

"_No buts, Ali, I swear to God." _Her heart stutters at the use of her old nickname, because she's sure Emily hasn't called her that ever since she'd found the photos of her and Noel. _"And to answer your original question… No. There's nothing between me and Paige. Not anymore." _

"Okay." She says it even though it's not – she wants an explanation for that kiss, but she has no right to demand one and she knows she won't get anywhere with Emily if she does so she bites her tongue.

"_What?" _Emily asks, and apparently she hasn't been quite as controlled as she'd thought. _"Do you not believe me or something? Why did you even ask me so out of the blue, anyway?" _

"I…" She knows she can't lie, not anymore – she'd promised herself that she wouldn't, not to Emily. "A sent me a photo of the two of you, kissing. Called it payback."

"_Fucking…" _Emily trails off, and Alison kind of wishes she could see the look on the brunette's face. _"She kissed me. And I told her I couldn't, that's all." _

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she replies, softly, even as relief washes through her because that kiss didn't _mean _anything and she still has a _chance. _Well. Sort of. If she can fix things between them.

"_I know. But I'm sick of secrets and I'm sick of lies – and I know I don't really have a right to say that because I'm guilty of them both but I… I _hate _A for doing this to us." _There's a vehemence, a rage, in the brunette's voice that sends a chill down Alison's spine because this isn't _her _Emily, this isn't who she _knows_, and _she's _supposed to be the bitter and twisted and angry one, and she vows to take A down if, for nothing else, what they've turned them all into. _"And for meddling." _

"Would you have kept it from me?" She asks, because she's curious.

"_I don't know. Probably. It's not like I was planning on calling you up to say 'hey, Ali, guess who kissed me today?' Something tells me you probably wouldn't take very well to that." _

"Probably not," she agrees, and they're almost joking around and it's… she'd been so sure that she'd ruined things between them that she barely even knows how to _process _this, when a part of her had thought that they'd never get back to this. "So you're really done with her?"

She hates that she needs to reassurance, but she _does_, needs to hear Emily to say it. And a part of her wonders if she should maybe even be _thanking _A, for this chance – because they're finally starting to clear the air between them, are having an actual _conversation _(maybe not face-to-face – but that's too laden with other things, it's too easy to get lost in emotion or in a gaze or be distracted by wandering eyes and this is just _easier_), are actually _getting somewhere. _

And she knows that, had she not gotten that text, she wouldn't have had the courage to confront Emily about her relationship with her ex-girlfriend (because she knows nothing about why they'd broken up, only that it had been recent and there'd been the lingering doubt, in the back of her mind, that they'd be able to patch things up and Emily would forget all about her), wouldn't have been faced with the possibility of the brunette moving on, of having to watch her be with someone else, and it's the fear of that pushing her on now, because she's been so stupid for far too long and it's time she actually tried to let herself be _happy_, for once.

She just hopes it's not too late.

"_Paige and I were done the night I found out that you were alive. I mean, not really. But… I could only move on because I thought you were gone. But then… you weren't." _She sighs, softly, and Alison's heart breaks for her because she's turned Emily's word upside down so many times and she doesn't deserve _any _of it. _"And everything changed. I know no-one told you why were broke up, but it was because of you. She told the police that you were alive when I asked her not. _Begged _her not to, in-case it put you in danger. And that was when… I realized that I wasn't over you. She was just trying to help me, but I couldn't see past that because all I could think about was you." _

Alison's throat feels tight, because she'd had _no idea_. She feels a flicker of anger at Paige for giving her up, but she pushes it away, because wouldn't she have done the same, in her position? Because she'd do anything to keep Emily safe, no matter the cost.

"What… what does this mean? For us?" Her voice is small, her words halting, because a part of her is terrified of the answer, and she feels like she's standing on a precipice, about to plunge over the edge with no idea if she'll be able to survive the fall or not.

"_I don't know_." Emily sounds just as uncertain as she feels. _"There's still so much… I told you that I know that you're sorry. But there's a part of me that still doesn't know how to forgive you. Or how to trust you again. If I ever did at all." _

Alison winces at the brunette's words, even though she appreciates the honesty – if they're going to do this then she supposes that she'd better get used to it, after all. "Okay," she forces herself to say, sounds more confident than she feels. "Then I'll just have to prove that you can trust me again."

And there's a plan formulating, in the back of her mind that might help her do just that. She knows it's going to take a lot, maybe more than she _can _do, but she has to _try_, couldn't live with herself if she didn't.

They say their goodbyes and Alison calls her Dad to pick her up, spends the time it takes for him to drive feeding mints to the horses she hasn't seen yet, her mind running wild with ideas. By the time she gets home she knows what she's going to do, thinks that maybe she can _tell_, if not _show_, Emily, how much she's always meant to her, then she (they) might have a chance.

So when she gets to her room she pulls out a notebook that she hasn't touched since before she disappeared, and she starts to write.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Just a quick one to say that I've managed to make some headway with this story over the last week, enough to promise (at least for the next few chapters!) regular updates, probably every Sunday or Monday :)**

* * *

When she opens her locker up at school on Monday morning and a white envelope falls out of it with her name written on the back, Emily nearly has a heart attack.

She has to _force _herself to bend down and pick it up, and her hands tremble as she does, a part of her filled with terror at what she might find within (because who else could it be but A, and what do they want _now_? Haven't they already meddled with her enough, lately?), before she recognises the elegant writing and breathes out a quiet sigh of relief.

Because only Alison writes like that, like Emily's name is a work of art, and she's the only person that Emily knows that still draws hearts over their 'i's' and she and Alison had used to exchange letters all the time (she said it was 'more romantic' than a text and Emily would have done anything Alison asked of her, back then), and it takes her back to that simpler time as she traces a finger over the letters of her name.

A part of her is still scared of opening it, not knowing what she's going to find within. She hasn't talked to Alison since that phone call on Saturday where the blonde had actually seemed _insecure _about her relationship with Paige and that's… confusing, for her. Because she's spent so long convincing herself that she and Alison would never be together and now Alison's acting like she _wants _for them to be something and she still doesn't… she's still struggling to let go of the past and believe that Alison's changed for the better and she can't get _rid _of that voice in the back of her mind that's screaming at her that she'd be an idiot to let the blonde back in.

Alison is dangerous, to her, because Emily knows that the blonde could destroy her. If she lets her in again (though she's not really sure she ever really left), she's terrified of what might happen if she loses Alison for good.

But she knows the curiosity of knowing what's in the envelope will eat her alive so she slides her thumb beneath the seam and rips it open, tugging out the letter within and leaning against the locker next to hers as she begins to read it.

_Emily, _

_You said you didn't know how you could ever trust me again, and I don't blame you for that. I know I've hurt you, so, so much, and I know that a lot of what I've done would be unforgivable to most. I'd ask for a second chance but I think you've already given me a dozen and I'm not sure I deserve another. _

_But I hope you do. _

_For a long time I didn't know how to get you to believe that I was genuine about all the things that I've told you. I spent so long trying to convince the both of us that I never had feelings for you, back then, that I can't blame you for doubting me now. _

_So this is me trying to convince you. You and I both know that I'm not good at opening myself up to people. You're the only one I ever let my walls down around, and even then… it was rare. I don't know how to let people in. I never did. But you make me _want _to. You make me want to do so many things. To be a better person is one of them. _

_I kept a diary because it was the only way I could get things of my chest. It was so much easier to write about them than to _tell _anyone. Because a page in a book can never judge you for all the things that you've done. _

_There are so many things that I want to tell you. So many things that I kept to myself, over the years. So many things I _wish _I'd told you, but never knew how to. _

_And maybe I still don't know how to open up and to have an actual adult conversation, face-to-face. But I know how to write. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to write to you, and I know you feel like you never really knew me, or never understood me, and maybe you didn't. But I want you to. Even if that scares the crap out of me, because there are some parts of me that I'm terrified you'll see and it'll make you run a mile and I'll lose you for good. _

_But I have to try. Because I know it's the only way that I have a chance. And if you ever want me to stop sending you these, then just tell me and I will. _

_You'll get your next letter after second period (unless you don't want it). _

_Until then,_

_Alison. _

Emily has to read it three times before the words start to make sense to her, and even then she's still stunned because it's just so _unexpected_. She hadn't ever actually expected Alison to reach out to her, even after they'd talked at the weekend and she'd asked if she still had a chance.

Because it's always been Emily who's made the first move, _always_. And she doesn't know how to… _deal _with this. But she knows she isn't going to ask Alison to stop, because the blonde's right – she's never understood Alison DiLaurentis and the fact that she might be getting some insight into the blonde's mind makes her impatient for her first two classes to get underway.

She's folding up the letter and carefully sliding it back into the envelope when she turns and nearly walks straight into Hanna. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of her friend, who has her arms folded across her chest with a stern look on her face, and is quick to slide the letter beneath the cover of a textbook in her locker, but Hanna notices it and arches an eyebrow.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," she answers with a shrug, hoping she sounds nonchalant. "Just a notice from the swim team asking me to help coach later." She slams the door of her locker shut before Hanna can investigate further, and though the blonde doesn't press Emily, she knows Hanna doesn't believe her for a second.

"You've been avoiding me," she says instead, and Emily feels a flash of guilt because she _has _and she feels _awful _about it but she'd just… needed a couple of days to herself, to process things.

And avoid the temptation of drinking.

_And _avoid the blonde's judgement of… whatever was happening with Alison, because Emily knew that she would, in no way, approve.

"I –"

"Don't even," Hanna cuts her off with a wave of her hand. "You have. I called you like ten times yesterday and you never picked up. It was only at the risk of looking like a stalker that I didn't barge into your house and drag your sorry ass out of bed. So what's up? And don't say nothing."

"I just… needed some time to think some things over, that's all."

"Hmm. Alison things?" There's a knowing look on the blonde's face and really, Hanna knows her all too well. "Because I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me about her." Hanna links their arms together and leads Emily off down the hall to her own locker, pausing when they get there to pull out a textbook. "Even if I do think she's a bitch."

"Hanna," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"Whoops, I'm sorry, did I say that out loud?" Emily just levels her friend with a look, and the blonde lets out a huff. "Sorry. She just brings out the worst in me."

"In all of us, sometimes."

"I don't know," Hanna says softly, eyes appraising Emily carefully. "I think sometimes she brings out the best in you. Much as it pains me to say it." Emily rolls her eyes once again and Hanna grins. "Seriously, though. You can talk to me about her if you need to. Like about what went down between the two of you the night she found us wasted in the park and dragged you home…?"

"I know. And if I _remembered _I'd tell you." Hanna looks like she's waiting for Emily to say more and pouts when she doesn't, but the brunette pretends to ignore her – she's not ready to tell her about this weekend, not yet. Not until she can straighten out her own feelings about it all.

"Okay, well, if _you're _not going to talk about your love life then let's talk about mine." They start to head towards their first class of the day with their arms still linked, slide into their seats at the back as they wait for the other two girls to arrive. "I talked to Caleb this weekend."

"And?"

"He told me some stuff. About Ravenswood. Some… really, really _weird _stuff." Emily raises an eyebrow, curious, but Hanna just shakes her head. "_So _not getting into it. But… now I don't know what to think. He says he wants to try again but I… what if things go wrong again? What if he _leaves _me again?"

Sometimes Emily gets so wrapped up in her own problems that she almost forgets that her friends have them, too, and she feels that guilt for avoiding the blonde's calls rise up in her again, because Hanna is hurt too and she needs to be there for her – _all _of them should be there for each other. She feels like since Alison came back they've started to drift apart, her so wrapped up in the blonde that everything else almost seemed to fall away; Hanna struggling so much with who she _is_; Spencer's family life falling apart around her and now Aria's is, too, and Emily can scarcely remember a time when the four of them had had an evening together without worrying about A, just trying to be _normal _teenagers, for once.

Sometimes she wonders when her childhood had slipped away from her and thrust her into a world where she had more worries than she could count, haunted by a ghost (because that's what A felt like, most of the time – untraceable and invisible, always hovering in the periphery), and trapped in a web of lies.

"You can't ruin your chance at happiness out of fear," Emily says gently, and then wonders when she'd turned into such a hypocrite – Hanna gives her a knowing look and she swallows, hard. "We're not talking about me," she says hastily. "We're talking about you. Caleb loves you. And he shouldn't have left, and he shouldn't have kept things from you, and it's not okay that he did but… You still care about him, Han, it's obvious. You're hurting yourself more by trying to stay away from him."

"Are we still talking about me?"

"If he cleans up his act," Emily continues, pointedly ignoring the blonde's comment. "Stops the drinking and gets some help with _whatever's _bothering him, then," she shrugs. "You should at least try. And if doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out."

"You'll be here to pick up the pieces?"

"Always," she promises, covering the blonde's hand, on her desk, with her own and squeezing gently. "You deserve to be happy."

"So do you. And I wish… I wish that you weren't still so hung up on Alison because you know I think she's bad news. But if… if she's who you decide you want to be with, if you want to give her a second chance… then I'm not going to stand in the way."

"Thank you," she murmurs softly, because she knows it's a huge thing for Hanna to say, and she's so, so grateful to have someone like Hanna in her life and if there's anything that she should be grateful to Alison for, it's for bringing them together, all of them, if nothing else.

She's not sure how she would have survived the past few years if not for her friends.

"Why do I feel like we're interrupting a heart-to-heart?" Spencer asks as she slips into her seat in-front of Emily, sitting sideways on the chair and resting her chin on the back of it. Aria is with her, sits beside her and offers Emily and Hanna a tentative smile – the brunette had heard that they'd patched things up yesterday, after the whole Zach fiasco, but she was sure things would be a little strained between them for a little whole yet.

"Because you are?" Hanna replies, and Emily is momentarily distracted as Paige walks into the room – the brunette's eyes meet Emily's for a brief second before darting away and Emily feels a pang in her chest because she knows Paige is hurting and she hates that she's the cause of it, even though she knows it's not her fault because she can't change the way she feels.

"About what?" She hears Aria ask, and she forces her gaze away from her ex-girlfriend as Paige chooses a seat near the front, as far away from Emily as she can probably get.

"Caleb." Emily's relieved that the blonde doesn't mention Alison, because she's not ready to talk about it yet, to anyone. "We might be getting back together."

"I'm happy for you, Han." Aria's smile is genuine but Hanna's is strained, and Emily can't imagine what it must have been like for her, to have Aria not believe her, and she wonders if the effort the blonde's made to _not _have a hangover today has something to do with the brunette's comments.

"Are we going to talk about the tension between Em and Paige, now?" Emily's eyes meet Spencer's as the other brunette speaks, and she curses her friend's observant gaze. "Did something happen between you two?"

"I…" She considers lying, for a brief second, but then dismisses the thought – she's been surrounded by lies for too long, hates doing it to her friends. "She kissed me. I told her nothing was going to happen. It was… awkward."

"I can imagine." Spencer's watching her carefully. "And would any of that have to do with Alison, by any chance?"

"Why? If it's to lecture me about the hundred reasons why I shouldn't trust her then thanks, but I already got the memo."

"Yeah, I already took care of that," Hanna supplies helpfully.

"I was just wondering. No plans for a lecture. I think she has changed, or she's at least _trying _to but… she's still Alison. So just… be careful, okay?"

"I'll try." It's the best she can promise, because she's always been careful but Alison makes her reckless, Alison can completely derail her with a single glance, and she's never known _how _to be guarded around her.

She's relieved when their teacher walks into the room and calls for their attention, meaning the topic of Alison is dropped. But she can barely concentrate as he drones on, because all she can think about now that Hanna's not distracting her is the thought of what she's going to find in her locker at the end of second period, and really, this class couldn't end soon enough.

x-x-x

_Emily, _

_I didn't even know where to start, so I thought I'd go from the beginning. The first time I ever laid eyes on you, I knew you'd be special – I just didn't know _how _special. It was the summer before we started high school, and you crashed into me in the street and you looked so _terrified _that I was going to scream at you that I thought it was adorable. _

_And I knew then that I _had _to get to know you. _

_That whole summer, with you and the other girls… It was the best I ever had. The four of you… you made me feel like I had something to live for. CeCe… she and I were close, ever since we were kids but she… she wasn't _good _for me. She got me into trouble and sometimes I feel like I grew up way too fast because she was so much older than me. She'd drag me to parties and I fooled around with the wrong people and I got involved with bad guys and I did so much messed up stuff with her at my side. _

_But you… you showed me that there's more to life than that, even if you never even knew it. You and Aria and Hanna and Spencer, you'll never know how important you are to me. I left Rosewood but I couldn't go far because the thought of leaving you hurt me too much. I came back and I risked myself because I couldn't stay away. _

_Sometimes I think you'd have all been better off if you hadn't met me. But then I wonder how fucked up I would've turned out if I never knew the four of you. I don't even know if I'd still be alive. _

_I guess what I'm trying to say is… you're my light, Em. You make me _better_. And you make me want to _be _better, because you deserve that and do much more. I can only hope that it's not too late for me to try. _

Emily rushed to her locker as soon as second period was over and reads the note in the back of her third class of the day, absorbing every word. It's… _odd_, to have so much insight into the mind of the woman who had been such an enigma to her for so long.

Odd and yet exhilarating, because she's never been able to read Alison, not _really_, and to have the chance… it means so much. There are so many questions about their past that she's never gotten an answer to – she'd never known if Alison was genuine, those times where the blonde had seemed so vulnerable, never known if she ever actually meant anything to her or if she was just reading into things too much, mind clouded by her own feelings.

She'd never known what was holding Alison back, if she _was _genuine. The blonde said that Emily was the hardest one to leave behind, but she'd never told her _why_. She'd never told her how she could turn her back if she cared (because Emily doesn't know how she could do it, if their situation was reversed, can't imagine the thought of leaving Alison behind, of letting the blonde think that something awful had happened to her), or why she'd never given them a chance.

And the thought that she might get to learn that means more to her than she'll ever be able to put into words. She's spent so long pining after a girl she thought she'd never have, only for her to come back in a whirlwind claiming that she'd wanted Emily all along – and Emily doesn't know how to believe her when Alison's guarded her feelings so well for so long.

Her heart has always been Alison's, and the blonde still holds it now, in the palm of her hands, and Emily thinks if she can just get some _closure_, about the past three years, then she can move on and let it go and they can actually try to be happy and she… she wants that more than she's ever wanted anything.

She can barely concentrate on that class, mind too preoccupied with Alison's words (she keeps re-reading the note over and over until she's pretty sure she can recite it, word-for-word), and when the bell rings signalling the end she hurries down the hall and into her next period, because she shares it with a certain blonde that she hadn't realized until that moment she was desperate to see.

Alison is one of the last ones through the door, and before she takes her seat her eyes seek out Emily's from across the room, and there's a vulnerability in her gaze that Emily doesn't think she's ever seen before.

She doesn't know what makes her reach for her phone and type out the five words – only that when she presses send and sees Alison glance at her own phone a moment later, the smile that crosses the blonde's face fills her with a warmth that makes her think, for the first time since Alison had come back to town, that they might be okay.

_It'll never be too late._

x-x-x

She finds the third note after she's finished at swim practice.

She'd be cornered at lunch by the coach and asked if she'd like an official position as assistant coach and had accepted in a heartbeat – swimming had become such an important part of her that she knew she couldn't turn it down, that she could at least feel like she was _achieving _something, even if it wasn't by setting a personal best at a swim meet.

And it gave her something to pour her focus into, instead of finding herself falling into the bottom of a bottle. It gave her a _purpose_, something to work towards, something that she hadn't even realized she'd needed until she'd been on the side of the pool, spurring on her girls to be the best that they could be.

It was a little odd, considering Paige was on the team. And she'd told the brunette that if it would be too awkward or too difficult that she'd turn it down, because Paige was hurting because of her and she still cared about her, even if she no longer loved her. But her ex had assured her with a pained smile and a hand on her arm that she should take the position, that they'd be okay, in time.

So there's a spring in her step when she reaches her locker at five p.m., feeling a buzz that she'd thought she'd lost forever, but she pauses when she sees the envelope lying on the floor, thinking it's odd that Alison wouldn't have left it inside her locker like she had with the others.

And it's definitely for her, her name in Ali's handwriting across the back, and she pushes away her confusion as she tears it open gently and starts to read…

_The first time you kissed me I replayed it over and over because I could barely believe it was real. I already knew how you felt about me – had always known, really – but I… I never thought you'd _do _anything about it and when you did… I didn't know what to do. _

_I think about that day a lot. Every time I see something to do with Dickens it reminds me – you by my side, the way the sunlight made your eyes glow golden, the feeling of my fingers in your hair… _

_I was so scared, Em. Of how much you meant to me, of what that kiss made me feel. I'm still scared. Terrified, even, because you're still the only thing I see when I close my eyes. You always where, even when I tried so hard to push you away. _

_Pip gets Estella in the end… I don't know who I was trying to convince more, you or me. _

Emily, too, remembers that day in perfect clarity. Being blinded by Alison's words, wanting so desperately to believe they were true – she'd taken them as a signal, kissed her before she could talk herself out of it, and she doesn't regret it.

She _had_, for a while. She'd been terrified, after Alison didn't say anything when she pulled away, that she'd ruined things. But then the blonde hadn't brought it up again (though there were more kisses, traded behind closed doors, some lasting much, much longer than others), and she'd decided that she shouldn't regret knowing what it felt like to have Alison's lips against hers, knowing how soft and delicate and _perfect _they felt, moving with her own.

She slides the note into the cover of her Chemistry textbook, along with the other two, for safe-keeping, as she gathers that and the couple of other books she needs for her homework and slides them into her bag, shutting her locker door and heading for the exit, looking forward to getting home.

She's halfway there when she hears a muffled noise and stops, senses on high alert, immediately seeking out a threat, all her muscles tensing as she turns slowly to see if there's someone following her, and she breathes out a sigh of relief when she doesn't see a black hoodie or a red coat anywhere in her periphery.

Deciding she must have imagined it she starts forward once more – only to stop when she hears it again, louder this time. It sounds like someone pounding on a door, followed by the muffled sound of a voice calling out, and despite every thought in her mind screaming at her to just turn around and _leave _she just… can't.

Because if someone needs help she's not someone who could ignore it and live with herself, but she still treads carefully as she heads towards where the noise is coming from, turning down a hallway and then pausing until it echoes again. When it does she _sees _the door, this time – a janitor's closet – shuddering as it's hit from within, and when she tries the handle she's unsurprised to find that it's locked.

"I'm going to get help," she promises whoever's stuck inside. "I'll be right back, I swear." Ella Montgomery's classroom is just down the hall – she sprints to the door and when the woman glances up at her in surprise she explains what's happened in a single rushed breath and she grabs her keys and follows Emily without question, concern written all over her face.

There's a knot of tension in Emily's stomach as she watches her friends' Mom try to find the right key, wondering whose idea of a prank was to lock someone away and leave them for the night and feels sick at the thought.

When the lock finally clicks open and Ella breathes out a small cry of triumph, she pushes the door open gently. It's dark inside, and when the room is illuminated by the light from the hall Emily sees that the lightbulb swinging from the ceiling has been broken – and then her view disappears as a body flings itself in her arms, and Emily gets a faceful of blonde hair as she stumbles, her arms wrapping around the shaking girl's waist as she's surrounded by the scent of a familiar perfume, and her shock turns to horror as she realizes who she's holding.

"Ali?"


	8. Chapter 8

She's such an _idiot_.

She should have been more careful, should have been on her guard at all times, every moment that she's walking through the halls of Rosewood High. But she'd been so preoccupied with slipping her final note of the day into Emily's locker before the brunette reached it that she hadn't heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind her until it was too late.

She doesn't know how long she'd been trapped in the room for, but it feels like an age, and when she's finally released all she can do is cling to Emily, her hands bunched into fists in the material of the brunette's shirt, her head pressed into the crook of her neck, breathing her in as she tries to stop the shaking that racks through her whole body, muffling the sound of her sobs against Emily's skin.

She never used to be afraid of the dark.

She never used to be afraid of anything.

But that had changed when she'd been stalked by a faceless figure – Mona, she knows, now, and she _hates _her with a vehemence that scares her, the woman who had driven her out of town and was still trying to make her life a living hell.

Because she'd heard the sound of Mona's laughter as she'd been shoved into the janitor's closet, as the lock had clicked behind her. And the brunette had shattered the light within, _knew _Alison's greatest fear, even now, and she _hates _her for it, even as she knows that, at least in part, she'd had a hand in twisting Mona into what she is today.

She never used to be afraid of the dark – until she was buried alive. For weeks, months after, she could barely sleep, because whenever she closed her eyes she felt like she was back in that grave again, dirt all over her, clogging in her throat until she could barely breathe, was sure she would suffocate, killed by her own mother who loved someone else enough to cover up her own daughter's 'murder'.

Still, two years later, she can scarcely sleep without a light on. When she'd been on the run she'd had a torch, clutched it in her hands as she slept so hard some nights that when she woke up she could barely move her fingers without blinding pain – but the light had grounded her, because with it, despite the nightmares that haunted her dreams, she knew that she wasn't back there. She was alive, and she wasn't underground, and she could _breathe_.

And Mona knew about her deepest, darkest fear – the one that she'd never told a single soul about – and used it against her. Standing in that closet, beating at the door until her hands bled, she was back six feet underground with dirt piling in-top of her and it's been so long and she'd pushed that night so deep down that it's only now she wonders if she ever really got over it at all.

"Alison?" Emily's saying her name, sounding more scared than the blonde has ever heard her, but she doesn't know how to speak, can only hold onto her tighter and be relieved that she hasn't been shoved away.

"Alison can you tell me what happened?" She'd forgotten that they weren't alone, that Emily must have gotten the keys from a teacher, and the sound of Ella Montgomery's voice sobers her – a little. She bites her lip and forces herself to take a step away from Emily, but the brunette's hands stop her, firm at her waist. "Who did this to you?"

"I… It was just a stupid prank." She tries to force a smile as she finds her voice, but she knows she's a mess, her face tear-stained and her eyes red, face probably blotchy and when she releases her hold on Emily to glance at her hands she winces.

A gasp rattles through Emily's teeth as she notices, too, and Alison is too slow to hide them – the brunette's hands grasp her wrists gently, and there's a dark anger in her gaze as her jaw clenches. "Who did this?" Her voice is rough, and Alison has never seen her filled with such fury and it takes her aback.

"I didn't see them," she lies, because she doesn't want to risk Mona's wrath if she tells Ella, and she hates the stern disapproval that's written over Emily's face. "They just pushed me in. But it's fine. I'm fine."

Mrs Montgomery doesn't look convinced – she purses her lips as Alison meets her gaze and she knows hers is pleading because she just wants to go _home_, can feel humiliation rippling through her because she's a wreck and she doesn't want anyone to _see _her like this.

"If you're sure…"

"I am. Really."

"Emily, can you make sure she gets home safe?" The brunette nods and Ella turns to leave, heading back down the hall, and there's still a glower in Emily's eyes but it softens as she meets Alison's gaze.

"I need to get cleaned up," she murmurs even though she really doesn't want to look in the mirror and see the state she's in, but she knows she has to, sooner rather than later. Emily trails behind her as she heads for the nearest bathroom, leans with her hip against the sink beside her when they're inside it, as Alison grimaces at her reflection. She splashes water on her face and hisses as it runs over her grazed hands, more tears springing into her eyes at the pain.

"Let me see," Emily demands softly, taking the blonde's hands in her own before Alison can protest, and she shakes her head when she sees the state of them. "How long were you in there for?" Emily's voice shakes slightly, and Alison knows it's from barely-contained rage.

"I don't know… They pushed me in after I finished last period."

"So over an hour." A muscle twitches in the brunette's cheek and Alison wonders if _she _should be angrier about this whole thing, but mostly she's just relieved to be out of there and into the _light_. "Who did it? And don't tell me you don't know because I know you were lying before."

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to _me_." Emily's still got a hold of her wrists, her fingers warm, and every so often she brushes her thumbs lightly against Alison's skin and the blonde wants to tremble beneath the gentle touch, acutely aware that the last time she and Emily had been so close they'd kissed. "Was it Mona?" Alison doesn't answer and the brunette's eyes flash. "It was, wasn't it?"

"And an evil minion or two."

"But why?"

"Because I'm evil incarnate? Because I dared to come back here after she drove me away? Because she apparently hasn't tortured me enough? God, I wish I'd slapped her harder that night."

"Ali," Emily says, disapproval in her tone, and the blonde rolls her eyes.

"Joking. Well. Not really. She deserved it, you know. That video wasn't… She hit me first. And maybe that doesn't justify me retaliating but… you know me. I lash out. And I know I hurt her, I _know _that, but I don't…. That's the _past _and I'm _sorry _about what I did to her but does that justify all of the things that she's done because of it?"

Emily's eyes are dark as they rest on her face, appraising her, and Alison wonders if it would have been better to keep her mouth shut – but she holds too much of a lingering resentment for that, because if not for Mona and that _stupid _video of that slap, she and Emily might have been okay, for a little while, after that night in her room.

Then again, maybe not, considering all that had happened since. But still, a girl could dream.

"No, it doesn't justify it. I don't think there's _anything _that can justify what she did, to any of us."

"Then why did you believe her over me?" She practically begs, vulnerability written all over her because it had hurt, Emily choosing to believe Mona's side of the story (video evidence be dammed – surely with all the manipulating of technology Mona has done over the years it wouldn't be that hard to believe that she could edit a video to her advantage), that Emily would choose someone else over her.

It hurt because it had never happened before. Emily was her rock, her safe place – the one person she could count on, no matter what. And she'd manipulated that as much as she could, back when she'd been too stupid to realize the damage she caused, and Emily's refusal to let it happen again was just yet another reminder of all the ways they'd both changed.

"I don't… Honestly?" Alison nods, captivated by Emily's eyes, finally feeling her pounding heartbeat begin to slow, finally feel like she can breathe again, grounded by the soft touch of Emily's fingertips against her skin. "There was a part of me… after that night, after letting you in, that was… terrified in-case it all turned out to be a lie. Because I didn't know if I could survive it. So I… at the first warning sign that you might not have changed after all I… ran."

"Are you going to keep running?" Her voice trembles as she speaks and Emily watches her with unreadable eyes. "Because you ran after Mona and you ran after Noel – and I can understand the reasons why you did, and I _do _understand and I'm not blaming you – but I don't think I can live through it happening again. So if you are… if you think, the next time you think I'm lying to you or keeping things from you, that you'll run instead of asking me about it then I don't… I don't think I can do this, Emily. I don't think I can survive seeing you walk away from me again."

She knows that a part of her is being unfair, because she's walked away from Emily more than once, in the worst possible way – but that's behind her now. She doesn't think she _could _leave again, even to save her own skin. She's in too deep and she's fallen too far and there's no going back from any of it now.

"I can't promise you anything," Emily finally speaks, her voice raw and Alison's eyes fall closed in defeat. "You terrify me, Ali." The brunette releases one of her hands from her own and instead cups the side of her face, a thumb sliding across her cheek and it makes her breath catch in the back of her throat. "I'm terrified of letting you in, and I know you're not the girl that broke my heart anymore, I _know _that. But I can't… I can't let go of it. Not yet. And until I do I'm not promising you anything because if I broke it I wouldn't know how to live with myself. But I'm _trying_. I'm trying and you're trying and maybe together we can actually make this work."

When Emily kisses her, Alison's startled, not expecting it, but then she melts into the brunette, because this kiss is unlike the others they've shared recently, hot and messy and _desperate_ – this is gentle and chaste and _loving_ and the sweetness of it surprises her.

It's over just as quickly as it began, Emily pulling away and resting their foreheads together, her breath ghosting across Alison's lips and the blonde doesn't want to move, doesn't want to ruin the moment – but her mouth opens before she can stop it.

"What was that?"

"That was…" Alison braces, fully prepared for the word 'mistake' to tumble from Emily's mouth. "I don't know. I just had to."

"Better than a promise," Alison says, softly, and she can't help but lean up on her tiptoes to steal another brief kiss from the brunette's lips because she doesn't know when she'll get the chance again, and when she pulls away she takes a step back, putting some distance between them because she doesn't want to get carried away because she knows they still have a long road to walk before they make any progress and she doesn't want to move too fast too quickly.

"This doesn't… This doesn't mean that…"

"We still have a long way to go," Alison cuts her off, and for the first time since the closet door had open her smile isn't forced. "I know."

"We need to clean up your hands."

"I can do it at home, I have bandages and stuff there."

"Let's go, then." Emily nods her head towards the door and Alison just stares at her for a moment, because though the brunette had told Ella she'd get her home safely, Alison had never really expected her to. "If you think I'm leaving you alone after what happened, then you really don't know me at all. Now come on."

x-x-x

Pepe's there to greet them when they get home, wagging his tail furiously and pressing himself against both their legs as soon as they're through the front door, whining happily. He glues himself to Emily's side as they make their way inside, and Alison can't help but smile softly at the sight of them.

"Sit," the brunette demands as soon as they're in the living room, hands on Alison's shoulders as she pushes the blonde down onto the couch. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"Bathroom upstairs."

"Don't move," Emily warns her as she heads for the stairs, and Alison rolls her eyes but stays put, a part of her getting a thrill out of the brunette taking care of her. Pepe jumps up beside her and lays his head on her lap and she rubs behind his ears gently.

Emily returns with a box full of first aid supplies and a bowl full of water, and she kneels beside the blonde and examines her hands once more before setting about cleaning them up, dipping a cloth into the water and wiping the dried blood away as carefully as she can, but Alison still winces in pain, and she's half-worried that she might have broken something.

"Can I ask you something?" Emily murmurs as she's wrapping a bandage around the blonde's right hand, ripping off some tape with her teeth and securing it in place, a tiny frown of concentration between her eyebrows that Alison finds adorable. "Why did it freak you out so much? I mean, I know it can't have been fun but… I don't think I've ever seen you so scared."

"I don't like the dark." Emily finishes her other hand and she wraps her arms around herself as the brunette looks up at her. "And I don't like enclosed spaces." She shivers as the memory of some of her earlier terror comes back to her, and Pepe snuggles further into her side as if he can sense her discomfort. "Being buried alive kinda does that to you." She tries a smile but she's sure it looks more like a grimace, and the first time she'd ever talked about that night had been with the four girls in New York and she doesn't know if she can put herself through it again.

"Ali…"

"Don't. I don't want to talk about it, not again. I… I can't."

"You can't just ignore it and hope it goes away." Emily's voice is gentle, her eyes earnest and she's still on her knees in-front of Alison's legs and she's half-tempted to grab her and kiss her like Emily had done to her when she'd been drunk the other night, just to get her to stop talking. "It's been over two years, it's no –"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was a timeline for getting over being buried alive by your own mother," she snaps at the brunette, her voice low with anger but Emily doesn't even flinch, just purses her lips and meets her gaze steadily.

"I didn't _say _that, Alison." There's a part of her that wants to lash out, that wants to cut Emily down with words to get her to shut up, because she's revisited that night enough times before to last a lifetime, hates the fact that it can still paralyze with her fear. "But I do think it'd help you to talk about it. If not with me, then –"

"What, a therapist?" She cuts off the brunette, frustrating etched into her words. "Fat lot of good that would do me, considering I could never tell them the truth. You want me to talk about being buried alive? Okay." Emily's mouth opens to cut her off but she talks right over the brunette, knowing that if she pauses to take a breath that the words will stick in her throat and she'll never be able to force them out. "It was the worst night of my life. When I woke up in that grave… I couldn't _move_ because the pain in my head was that bad. I couldn't do _anything _except watch my _mother _pile earth on-top of me.

"I couldn't speak. I thought I was paralyzed, that I was going to die in a hole in the ground and no-one would ever know. And the dirt… I can still remember the feeling of it, all over my skin. The _smell _of it, as it covered me, with every breath that I took. The way it stuck in the back of my throat. There's no worse way to die, than suffocating six feet underground, chilled to the bone, knowing that if you could just move, just a little, then none of this would be happening to you.

"And then when I could move… do you have any idea what it's like, to try and claw your way out of a grave? With no idea how close you are to the top? To feel yourself get a little dizzier, a little weaker, with every breath you take, and wonder how many more you have before you die?

"Because I do. I relived it a thousand times whenever I closed my eyes. I can't stand the dark because it takes me back to that night and I feel like I can't breathe. The first time I ended up alone in a dark room when I was away I had a panic attack so bad that I fainted. I still can't sleep without a light on. And Mona… she _knew _that. She knew exactly how to derail me. And A… A knew that trying to strangle me would hurt the most. And between the two of them knowing all my weaknesses I don't know how I'm going to live through whatever they have planned for me. Because I know it's something. There _must_ be something. Mona spent so much effort trying to send me running away, and A so much on trying to get me back and I'm so scared all the time, Emily. I thought that with Shana gone I could finally… I could finally live my life without jumping at every little noise or looking over my shoulder at every turn but it's even worse now than it was before and I don't… I don't want to be _scared _anymore."

Emily's looking at her with a mixture of horror and sympathy that Alison didn't ask for, and she regrets letting so much slip – she's always so careful, to keep her emotions close to her chest, because as soon as you exposed them you were vulnerable, open to attack, and she has to remind herself, as she takes a deep breath, that Emily's not out to get her.

That Emily might be the only thing that can get her through this alive.

"Are you happy, now?" She prompts when the brunette doesn't speak, and she folds her arms across her chest as if they could protect her from the weight of her honesty.

"I wish you'd told me that sooner."

"Why? Because you could help me with it so well?" Her voice is abrasive, because she's let her walls down too far and she doesn't _like _it, doesn't like being so raw and open, isn't used to being so _honest _and a part of her feels like she has to push Emily away over it even as the rest of her is curing her for her stupidity.

"No." Emily heaves a frustrated sigh from between gritted teeth but doesn't take Alison's bait. "Because if you keep pushing things down so far in an effort not to feel them then it'll only hurt you worse, in the end."

"How would _you_ know?" She snaps, speaking without even thinking – and as soon as the words are out of her mouth she regrets them, wants to take them all back because Emily has been through so _much _and she doesn't need Alison to remind her of it all.

"I thought you were dead, Alison," the brunette reminds her, none-to-gently, an edge to her words. "I thought I'd lost my first love and my best friend all in one go. And then I finally moved on and I fell in love again… and she died. I knew something was going on with her and I couldn't… I couldn't save her. And then her murderer came after me and my _new _girlfriend and I… I killed him."

"Em, I didn't –"

"Didn't mean it? Yes, you did." The brunette shoots her a knowing look and Alison wants to cower beneath it. "You want me to try to not run away? Then I want you to try to not lash out at me whenever you actually let yourself be vulnerable around me. Because that's gonna get real old real fast, Ali, and I'm not putting up with it."

She flushes slightly, chagrined that Emily knows her so, so well, but she supposes Emily has the right to ask her for something in return. "I make no promises." She repeats Emily's words from before and watches the brunette's lips twitch as she tries to fight a smile. "And I'm sorry. I'm just… not used to it."

"I know." Emily shifts and rises to her feet, wincing as she straightens out her legs. "Do you have anything to eat around here?"

"I wasn't aware you were staying for dinner," Alison answers coolly, and this time it's the brunette who rolls her eyes.

"I told you, I'm not leaving you alone."

"But I'm fine."

"You're a lot of things, Ali," Emily murmurs back, a serious glint in her brown eyes. "But 'fine' isn't one for them. I'm not going anywhere."

"And if I ask you to leave?"

"I'd go if I knew you really meant it. But I don't think you would." She shrugs, and Alison huffs out a sigh because she knows she's right – she's barely spent any time with Emily since before the brunette had discovered those stupid photos of her and Noel, and she's _missed _her.

"But you wouldn't be here if I hadn't been locked in that room. You wouldn't want anything to do with me if not for that."

"Alison." There's frustration in the brunette's voice for the first time that evening, as she puts her hands on her hips and looks at her through narrowed eyes. "If there's _anything _that we've established over the last two weeks, I think it's that I'll always 'want something to do with you'. Would I be here right here, right now if not for what happened today? No, probably not. But it _did _happen, I _am _here, and I'm not going anywhere unless you expressly ask me to leave. I'm not here because I… pity you, or whatever it is you're thinking. If I didn't _want _to be here, I wouldn't be, believe me. So are you going to let it go and let me cook you dinner or not?"

"You cook?" That's what she holds on to, out of all the brunette's said (because the rest of it is too dizzying, and she doesn't want to feed the tendrils of hope that have set up camp in her chest, lest this come to nothing, in the end), because Alison distinctly remembers Emily burning _pasta _once, before she'd disappeared.

"…I can put ready-done things into the oven for the amount of time it says on the packet."

"How is it," Alison starts as she too, clambers to her feet, heading towards the kitchen with both Emily and Pepe at her heels. "That even after being away from home for three years, I'm still a better cook than you are?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." Emily's tone is teasing, and Alison meets her gaze and can't fight a smile, because this almost feels like a fresh start and she'll grasp at it with both hands and never let go.

"Then sit down," she nods to one of the stools set against the marble breakfast bar in the kitchen. "Watch, and learn."


	9. Chapter 9

When she woke up that morning, she never would have guessed that her day would have ended up with her in the DiLaurentis' kitchen, watching Alison hovering over the stove with a look of resolute concentration on her face as she juggles several pans at once.

"Are you sure I can't help?" Emily asks for what must be the third time, not liking being idle while the blonde is so preoccupied, but Alison doesn't even look up as she replies.

"Just like all the other times you asked Em, I'm good." Emily would have never pegged Alison as the cooking type, and she's still a little amazed that the blonde is making something _for _her, is astounded at the turn her day has taken.

"Well then I'm going to go get my Chem homework."

"Am I not entertaining enough for you?" Alison turns to throw Emily a mock-glare over her shoulder, and the brunette grins, wondering when things had turned so easy-going between them – not that she was complaining. She'd take this over an argument any day.

That wasn't to say all was forgiven. There were still doubts swirling around the back of her mind but… she was actually _enjoying _herself. Alison had opened up to her today more times than she could count – probably more times than she ever has before, in all the time that she's known the blonde.

And it's… _nice_. To have the air cleared between them, to be able to breathe a little easier, to _not _have to wonder if Alison's being genuine. Because she hasn't thought that once, since Alison had thrown herself into her arms in the school hallway – not once has she doubted her sincerity, not once has the blonde given her a reason to think that she was hiding something and it's… new and scary but _good_ and she finds herself feeling more at ease than she has for a long, long time.

"Not right now, no." She teases Alison right back, bites her lip when the blonde scoffs at her before turning her back, leaving Emily to disappear back into the living room and haul her bag into the kitchen.

She spreads her textbooks across the table in-front of her, opens her notebook and sets to work, though she finds it hard to concentrate, her eyes continually wandering to glance at the blonde opposite her, captivated by the sight of her, enjoying the opportunity to let herself _look _for once, instead of trying to hide the fact that her gaze couldn't stay away from Alison for long.

"You're staring," Alison murmurs, eventually, as she bends to put the now-assembled lasagne into the oven, and Emily's eyes are unashamedly glued to the blonde's ass.

"Can you blame me?"

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I'm liking this view a little more." She catches a glimpse of Alison's smile in the reflection offered by the window and feels an answering one spread across her own face. As the blonde moves over to the sink and the pile of dishes that's been building steadily towards the side of it, she makes a noise of disapproval in the back of her throat. "Leave them. I'll do them later."

"But - "

"No. You cook, I clean. That's how this works." Alison turns to glance at her, stubborn look on her face, but Emily just stares right back, unwavering.

"Fine. But I'm helping."

"We'll see," Emily murmurs under her breath as Alison sets a timer and hops onto the seat opposite her. She shuts the cover of her textbook because if she can barely get any work done while Alison's doing other things she knows there's no hope with the blonde sitting so close.

But she slams it a little too hard and it sends the three notes hiding within skittering across the countertop, and she freezes up, just a little, because the blonde hasn't brought them up so neither has she, and is she supposed to acknowledge them? Or is she supposed to act nonchalant and shove them back into the book without mentioning them?

"I'm sorry, about them." Alison saves her from trying to figure out what to say as she nods towards the notes as Emily reaches for them. "I know you'd probably prefer it if I told you things face-to-face but I…"

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry." She curls a hand around the back of Alison's, carefully avoiding the bandages across the back of them (and she's still not quite gotten a hold of her earlier rage at finding Alison in such a state, feels it rear up again whenever she catches a glimpse of the gauze and she's _furious _that Mona would do this to her), and squeezes gently. "I know it's hard for you to open up to people. If this is what's easier for you then that's fine. It's enough for me just to know that you're trying."

"So you don't think that it's really stupid?"

"Actually I think it's sweet." Alison's eyes had been glued to the marble counter, but at Emily's words she lifts her head, a shy smile on her face that widens when her eyes meet the brunette's. "Who would've guessed that Alison DiLaurentis was a romantic at heart?"

"I'm full of surprises."

"I bet." The air between them suddenly seems charged, and Emily is hyper-aware of the feeling of Alison's skin beneath her fingertips. She sees the blonde's eyes dip to her lips and then back up again and her breath hitches and she remembers the two kisses from before vividly, swears she can still feel Alison's lips against hers.

But she's terrified of messing this up, of moving too fast, because Alison means everything to her and she doesn't want to ruin their chance by skipping steps, and if she kisses the blonde right now she knows it will be hell to stop, so she snatches her hand away from Alison's and takes a deep breath and tells herself to gain some self-control.

Fast.

"So, you got any more letters for me?" She asks when she feels like she can speak without her voice being strained, mind overrun with the thought of grabbing a fistful of Alison's white shirt and yanking her forward, of running her hands through blonde hair and kissing Alison until neither of them could breathe.

"All in due time," Alison replies with a mysterious smile, and Emily pouts and the blonde laughs. "If I gave you them all in one go it'd ruin the mystery, wouldn't it?"

"The sooner the better." Emily is quick to answer, and Alison just shakes her head. "Fine. What did you get up to this weekend? Tell me you did something more interesting than me because I barely left my room for the entirety of it."

She listens to Alison talk about the ranch she'd gone to on Saturday with her chin propped up on the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the countertop, hanging onto the blonde's every word. It feels like it's been so long since they'd had a _normal _conversation – not about A or Alison's absence or fighting about where they stood with one another – and it's _refreshing_.

There's a light in Alison's eyes as she talks about her old hobby that makes her look so much younger than usual, a childish excitement to her that Emily's _missed_. She's missed this version of Alison – _happy_ and carefree and animated – can't remember the last time she saw her like this. Certainly not since she'd come back to Rosewood, and she struggles to remember a time even before then – she hadn't realized, at the time, that Alison was being haunted by something much bigger than herself, and Emily wonders, looking back now, how she'd failed to realize that something was up.

"You'll have to come with me one day."

"Hell no," she fires back immediately, shuddering at just the mere thought. Alison had tried to drag her out to the stables with her several times in the past, and Emily had always vehemently refused. There was just something about being around animals that were vastly bigger than her that freaked her out – not to mention the _insanity_ of the people who thought it was a good idea to climb _aboard_ something that had a mind of its own.

The memory of the last time she was around horses is still clear in her mind, and she has no wish to repeat it.

"But why?"

"You know I don't like horses. They freak me out."

"I don't know _why_. They're sweet and gentle and - "

"Tell that to the one that nearly killed me and Spencer the other day."

"He was probably just scared 'cause of the storm," Alison counters, and Emily shakes her head in disbelief.

"I nearly died and all your sympathy is for the _horse_?"

"Don't be so dramatic." Alison rolls her eyes and Emily feigns to be horrified by her blasé attitude but on the inside she's elated. "You're completely fine."

"Just emotionally scarred for life." The blonde catches her eye and shakes her head, and Emily can't bite back the grin that settles across her face. "Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic. _But _there's still no way I'm going to let you take me with you one day. No. Way."

"We'll see," Alison says with a twinkle in her eye, and Emily narrows her gaze but the blonde just looks innocently back.

"Maybe I'll consider it if you come swimming with me one day." Alison's not scared of water, not like Emily's scared of horses, but the blonde had rarely been swimming with her and it had always been something she'd wanted more often – plus she'd _never _turn down the opportunity to see her in a swim suit.

"You can still swim? I thought… with your shoulder...?"

"I can still do it," she shrugs, pretending it's no big deal even though coming to terms with the fact that she'd never be able to swim like she used to had been one of the most difficult things she's ever had to do. "Just… not competitively. Or often. I don't really do it much anymore, it hurts too much – like, mentally, not my actual shoulder itself – but I'd make an exception for you."

"I hate A for taking that away from you."

"They could've taken worse away from me. You, for example."

"I'm not going anywhere," Alison promises her, and Emily wills herself to believe it. "And I'll think about it." Emily looks at her with confusion. "The swimming," she clarifies. "I'm thinking it'll be worth it to get you on a horse."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never said anything about getting _on _a horse. I said I'd go _with _you. Two completely separate things."

"We'll see," Alison repeats with a mischievous grin, and the blaring of the timer signalling that the lasagne was done cuts off any protests Emily might have made. She moves to stand and help but Alison throws her a look that has her sinking back down onto the stool again.

"Very impressive," Emily comments as Alison slides a plate across to her over the counter a few minutes later, eying the food appreciatively as Alison takes her seat back opposite her.

"You haven't even tried it yet."

"Well it doesn't _look _like it's going to kill me, so that's a good start."

"Very funny." Emily ducks her head to hide her smile, and they eat in comfortable silence for a while – and Alison's right, she's a much better cook than Emily can probably ever hope to be, considering the lasagne's not only edible but taste's pretty great, too.

Emily cleans the dishes when they're done, Alison at her side drying them before putting them away, and the domesticity of it all isn't lost on her – unbidden, her mind's filled with the thought of a lifetime of this, of coming home from work to find Alison waiting for her, and she quickly pushes the thought away as her heart clenches hard in her chest with _want_.

Alison catches her gaze as she's finishing the last plate and she wonders, from the wistful look on her face, if the blonde is thinking something similar. Emily retreats to the living room couch while Alison disappears upstairs to the bathroom, and Pepe sits in-front of her and plants his head on her knee, his tail sweeping across the carpet behind him.

"You have to look after her when I'm not here buddy, okay?" She tells him as she rubs a hand behind his ears, and he whines at her in response. She's still so furious about Mona and her antics but she knows that Alison wants her to drop it, doesn't want her worrying about the blonde – but she _does_, can't help but wonder if Mona's planning something else and she wants to glue herself to Alison's side in-case something does but something tells her that the gesture probably wouldn't be appreciated.

When Alison comes back down the stairs there's an envelope in her hand, and Emily eyes it with curiosity as the blonde makes her way over to the couch to sit beside her, holding it out towards the brunette with trembling fingers.

"I was only joking when I was asking before," Emily murmurs, because Alison looks unsure and she doesn't want to feel like she's guilted the blonde into revealing something she's not ready for.

"I know. But this one… this is my biggest regret." Alison's voice is quiet, and she worries at her bottom lip as she pauses. "And probably one of the worst things I did, aside from leaving. So I wanted to be here when you read it. Try to explain myself, if I can."

"Okay." Emily's voice is quiet and she accepts the note almost warily, and she starts to read it as Pepe lifts his head and jumps up next to Alison, instead.

_That day in the locker room was one of the worst days of my life. I'm sure it was one of yours, too. _

_Whenever we'd kissed before then, I'd always expected it and I was always _ready _for it. But on that day… I wasn't. You took me by surprise and the only thing I could think to do was to push you away because I was terrified. _

_With one kiss you could bring me to my knees; no-one else could make me feel the way you did. I was an idiot back then, my reputation mattered to be above all else – I didn't know how to be with a girl, so I told myself that I only kept kissing you because I liked the way you made me feel._

_I loved the way you looked at me – everyone else looked at me like they wanted something from me, but you looked at me like I _meant _something. And I shouldn't have done what I did that day, it was cruel and stupid and _hurtful_, knowing how you felt and flashing you anyway. _

_And I still don't even know why I did it. And I'll never be able to apologize enough for the way that I reacted when you kissed me. But it just… you'd never dared to before, I'd always taken the lead once you'd made the first move and I didn't… I didn't know how I'd be able to stay away if you grew bolder because I wanted you more than I'd ever wanted anyone else before and it was hell to keep my hands to myself. _

_So I thought if I convinced you that you didn't mean anything to me it would be easier. But I was wrong because I felt awful after it. On that drive home I knew you were trying so hard not to cry and you barely said a word the whole time, could barely look at me and it was… the worst I've ever felt in my entire life. _

_I didn't know how to make it better, save telling you that I didn't mean it but I knew if I did that I wouldn't be able to stop myself falling for you any further than I already had. So I bit my lip and I stayed silent and I hated myself for hurting you and when I got home I cried over what a horrible person I was. _

_I went back to your house that night, but you never saw me. I tried to build up the courage to knock on the door and apologize, anything to make it better but I couldn't do it. I stayed out there until two in the morning before I forced myself to go home – and when I left I saw you curled up on your window seat with tears in your eyes and I… I've never felt worse guilt and shame in my life than I did in that moment. _

_But I wasn't brave enough to admit it. I pushed it down and I brushed that day off and I could see you hurting over it but I never brought it up again. A part of me was convinced that if we never talked about it then I wouldn't have to face my feelings (sound familiar? I guess I haven't changed all that much, after all). And then it was only a few weeks later that I went to Cape May for the summer. _

_I couldn't stop thinking about you while I was away. I tried. You don't want to know the ways that I tried… Though I suppose you know about some of them by now. And I'm not proud of it, of trying to use someone to get over you. It never worked. I just kept wishing that it was your hands on me instead. _

_I swore to myself that when I came back from there I'd try and be a better person. That I'd finally apologize. That I'd try and be worthy of you. That everyone else paled to even just the image of you, never mind the reality – and that trying to forget about you was futile. That I didn't think I ever would. _

_But I never got the chance. Mona stole that from me along with everything else, and sometimes that's what I resent her for the most_.

Alison is silent while she reads, but Emily can feel the blonde's eyes on her. She doesn't know what to feel as she takes in the blonde's words – for so long, that awful day had been imprinted on her mind (even now she can remember it vividly, the feeling of Alison's soft skin beneath her lips before she'd wrenched away, the sting of rejection at the blonde's furious words, the sheer humiliation of having to drive her home and not being able to run away with her tail between her legs like she'd wanted).

It was the moment she'd finally forced herself to wake up from the dream that she'd been living – that Alison would ever feel the same way about her. It was that night, curled up on her window seat and staring blankly at the world outside as the sky had darkened around her, that she'd finally accepted that she was in love with her best friend… and that that friend would never, ever want her back.

And it had been one of the worst nights of her life so far.

And she'd hated herself for it, when Alison had disappeared. Blamed herself for that fact that their last few weeks together, before she'd gone away, had been strained because she was haunted by the revulsion on Alison's face.

It was during that time that the blonde had gotten drunk, that they'd kissed before Alison had told her she'd never feel that way about a girl. And Emily had barely even been able to look at her, after that. And a week later she was gone for the summer, leaving her alone with nothing but her own thoughts, of how _stupid _she was to ever believe that she'd have a chance with someone like Alison DiLaurentis.

She'd written that stupid letter then, too, telling Alison how she felt. Not that Alison had ever read it – as soon as she'd come back she was gone again, for good, this time, and all Emily had to comfort her was that last final moment alone, in her bedroom when the blonde had given her the snowglobe.

"Okay, you not talking is making me nervous." Alison's voice cuts through her thoughts, and when she lifts her head she sees the blonde worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth, twisting her fingers nervously in her lap. "This was a bad idea."

"No, it's not, I just…" She struggles to find the right words, mind still preoccupied by the blonde's. "That day was… well. Not great for me." She laughs, but it's bleak – it was the first time she'd felt heartbreak and it hadn't been something that she'd ever wanted to feel again.

And even though it pales in comparison to the feeling of losing both Alison and Maya, her heat still clenches at the memory of it.

"I'm sorry."

"What have I told you about apologizing all the time?"

"But - "

"No buts. Let me talk." She holds up a hand to stop the blonde when she opens her mouth to protest before taking a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "First of all _thank you_." Alison looks surprise, and she smiles a little at the look on the blonde's face before explaining.

"You don't know for how long that day haunted me for. I dreamt about it, I had nightmares about it – and Ali, if you say sorry one more time I will walk out that front door right now - " She adds, as she sees Alison open her mouth yet again – at the brunette's words she flushes before snapping her jaw shut. "Because I never understood _why_. I didn't understand how the girl who was so sweet with me sometimes – like asking me to run away with her to Paris – could turn into who I saw that day.

"Because okay, I knew you could be a bitch." She smiles apologetically at the blonde but Alison just waves her on. "I'd seen it in you. Towards me even, sometimes. But never like that… And I wondered how deluded I must've been, to actually _convince _myself that you might have feelings for me, too. That day was like a slap in the face, and I looked back and I decided that you'd just been messing with me all along."

"I swear I wasn't," Alison interrupts, her voice pleading and her eyes filled with desperation. "I _wasn't_. But I never knew how to love, Emily. My parents, my _brother_, weren't… you've seen them. Do you think I grew up in a happy, loving home? Because I didn't. So what I felt for you paralyzed with me fear. I wasn't _supposed _to fall for anyone. And I didn't know how to deal with it and it doesn't justifyanything – _nothing_ can do that – but I just wanted… I _needed _to try and help you understand what I was thinking back then. Because I look back at that day and some of the others and I think that if our positions were reversed, how could I ever believe that you had feelings for me at all with some of the things I did? And I realized that I _wouldn't_. Not without trying to understand you. Maybe not even then. So I don't even know how I can ask you to try."

"Luckily for you I happen to be very open-minded." She tries to lighten the mood, her mind still swirling from the turn this day has taken, and when she sees that Alison still looks so worried she reaches out and takes one of the blonde's hands in her own, twisting their fingers together and squeezing softly. "Did you really mean it?" Alison raises a questioning eyebrow. "About Paris. About running away."

"I meant it. We'd get a crappy one-bedroom apartment overlooking the city, the Eiffel tower in the background, and every weekend we'd visit a different part of the city until we'd been to it all, have a huge collage of all the photo's we'd taken in each place. You'd teach kids to swim; I'd teach them English. We'd take Pepe with us, and we'd never look back." There's a faraway look on Alison's face, like she's daydreamed about this a hundred times before, and both that and her words warm Emily's heart.

"Sounds nice."

"Sounds like a fantasy." Alison's eyes had been downcast, focusing on where Emily was drawing absent patterns on the back of her hand with her fingers, and when she finally looks up her eyes are sad.

"Sounds like a dream," Emily corrects, gently, holding Alison's gaze, barely able to breathe under the intensity of it. "Then it's something to work towards."

"You'd really go?"

"How else are you going to see how good I look on top of the Eifel tower?" Alison smiles for the first time since she'd come downstairs, and Emily congratulates herself for pulling one out of the blonde when she'd seemed so worried before.

Alison's eyes hold hers and Emily wants nothing more than to close the distance between them and crash their lips together, to _feel _how much Alison wants her, instead of reading it. She's drawn to Alison with an almost magnetic force, doesn't know how to keep her hands to herself anymore. It's like a floodgate had opened, that night when they'd fought over the photos of Alison and Noel together, after Alison had thrown her against the wall and kissed her until she could scarcely remember why they were arguing in the first place – and ever since, whenever they've been alone, they've kissed.

And Emily wants it again, craves the taste of Alison's mouth on her tongue with a desperation that she's never felt before, and her fingers tremble against the back of Alison's hand, and the blonde's eyes are dark and Emily can feel her heart beating loud in her ears and she _wants _her and _screw _moving slow because she doesn't know if she can survive the wait, consequences be damned.

She finds herself leaning forward almost without conscious thought, unable to resist the lure of Alison's lips – and the second before they touch the front door slams open, and Emily springs away from the blonde with her heart pounding fast in her chest, and she schools her face into what she hopes is a neutral expression as Alison's dad comes into view.

"Emily." He sounds surprised to see her, and she smiles in greeting, hoping that she doesn't look like she's just been having very inappropriate thoughts about his daughter. "I didn't realize you were coming over tonight."

"I invited her over for dinner," Alison explains, and Emily's sure she sees resentment in the blonde's eyes. "Seeing as you're never here for it." That last part is muttered under her breath, too quiet for her father to hear it, and Emily feels a stab of sympathy at what it must feel like to come back from the dead and have your own father be even more absent than ever before.

"So you've already eaten?"

"There are leftovers in the fridge." He nods to himself before heading into the kitchen without another word, and Alison watches him go with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Emily murmurs before she rises to her feet, and Alison catches her wrist and half-heartedly tries to pull her back down.

"You don't have to."

"I do. I told my Mom I'd be home by eight and I have homework I need to finish by tomorrow or I'm screwed…" She bites her lip, debating whether to admit to _real _reason why she feels like she needs to go… and decides what the hell. "Plus I'm not really sure I can be trusted to keep my hands to myself when I'm around you right now and that's _probably _not a good idea while your dad's around."

Alison flushes at her words and she smirks before turning her back and busying herself with collecting her stuff and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You can't say stuff like that and then just _leave_," Alison mutters darkly as she follows the brunette to the front door and Emily chuckles quietly.

"But we're supposed to be taking this one step at a time," she points out, opening the door and then leaning her shoulder against the frame, and when Alison's eyes trail deliberately slowly down the length of her body her breath hitches.

"Yeah, well, I don't know if I'm going to be able to do that." She has to fight a shudder at the husky tone of the blonde's voice, because she's not _used _to it. Alison has never looked at her so openly (aside from that night in her bedroom upstairs when Emily's dreams had come true), like she wanted to rip off her clothes and kiss every inch of her skin, and it sets her aflame.

She's pretty sure she's going to need a cold shower when she gets home.

"That's _definitely _my cue to leave." Her throat feels tight, and her voice comes out strained, and this time it's Alison who smirks and Emily wants to wipe it away with a kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Mhm. But text me when you get home so I know you made it safely."

"Ali I live like five minutes away." Though a part of her is thrilled by the blonde's concern over her welfare – not that she'd ever admit it.

"I don't care. A lot can happen between now and then."

"Fine, fine, I'll text you, _Mom_." Alison glares at her playfully but she just grins, bending down briefly to give Pepe one last pat goodbye. "Night, Ali." She gives the blonde one last lingering look before forcing herself to turn and walk to her car, feeling the weight of Alison's gaze on her back.

She's sliding into the driver's seat when her phone rings, and when she fishes it out of her pocket she sees Hanna's name and shakes her head, deciding to ignore it – at least until she sees that the blonde has already tried to reach her several times.

"_Fucking finally_," Hanna's voice is relieved in her ear when she finally answers, and she rolls her eyes at the tone of the blonde's voice. _"I thought Alison had kidnapped you to force you to stay at her house." _

"How do you know I was there?"

"_Because I am at _yours_ and your Mom told me."_

"What? Why are you at my house?"

"_Um, because I needed to talk to you, dumbass, and you wouldn't pick up the freaking phone. Your Mom let me in, told me I could wait for you to get back from Ali's. Have you finally finished fucking for long enough for you to take a call?" _

"It's not _like _that," she says with a huff as she pulls carefully out of Alison's driveway.

"_Oh? What _is _it like, then? Enlighten me." _

"Why did you need to talk to me so bad, anyway?" She asks, trying to change the subject, and Hanna tuts in disapproval.

"_You're not getting away with it that easily, Fields. And I'll tell you when you finally drag your ass back here. Maybe the curiosity of it will be enough for you to drag yourself away from Alison's mouth for two seconds."_

"You're ridiculous."

"_Oh, am I? Am I really? So there's nothing going on between you two?" _She doesn't answer, doesn't want to lie – because though there's not, _technically_, she's hoping there will be soon. _"See. I knew it." _

"Whatever." She reaches her own drive, pulls up in the driveway and sees Hanna perched in the window of her bedroom – when the blonde sees her she grins and waves, and Emily shakes her head. "I'll be up in two seconds."

"_I'll be waiting. And if you think you can get away with not spilling the beans on whatever's going on between you and Ali, think again." _


End file.
